


White Snow: Elimination

by Vhetin1138



Series: White Snow: Year 1 [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Bounty Hunters, Mandalorian Culture, Mandalorians - Freeform, Murder Mystery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 22:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 69,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vhetin1138/pseuds/Vhetin1138
Summary: A remote smuggling outpost on the planet Telos is destroyed, with no survivors. The culprit must pay for these crimes, but first he must be found. Prince Xizor, grand master of the mighty Black Sun crime syndicate, now turns to Cin Vhetin and his partner, Jay, to hunt down this bloodthirsty attacker.But as the hunters begin their investigation, they realize that they are not alone on this hunt. And what hope do Vhetin and Jay have to bring their target in when Boba Fett is also on the job?Featuring guest appearances by Corey Black and Tal Tracyn, courtesy of Darth A-den and Burningdreams76, respectively, on Deviantart. com





	1. Audience With the Prince

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note: This story, and subsequent ones in the Year 1 series, has not been fully re-edited for errors and quality. They will be updated at a later date. Thanks for your patience.

_“Meh aliit linibar aranov nu nari ori’suumyc.”_

_“No action is too terrible when defending your family.”_

_\- Mandalorian Proverb_

**_~~~~~~~~_ **

The room was dark. It crowded around Corey, thick and strong and stifling as a heavy blanket as he stepped into the huge circular audience chamber buried deep within Prince Xizor’s mansion on Naboo. He moved for the center of the huge chamber, stepping into the only source of light inside: a brilliant shaft of sunlight that shone down from an aperture open in the ceiling. It created a perfect circle of illumination from which he could be easily observed while the observer remained hidden within the shrouded anonymity of the shadows.

He knew there were several such observers in the room around him, even if he didn’t have the luxury of seeing them. He could feel their gazes on him, feel their anger and their contempt. It radiated out from the dark with an almost perceptible power. He ignored it all, instead standing at attention and hooking his gauntleted arms behind his back.

“I’m answering your summons,” he said, “your highness.”

There was no answer. Corey waited exactly five seconds before continuing, “I can only assume that it’s because of what happened on Telos.”

Again he was met with only silence. He sighed and dropped his parade-rest stance. “Pardon my impudence, Prince, but I can’t tell you what you want if I don’t know what it is.”

“I am very disappointed with your work, Master Black,” the voice rang out from the shadows. It was slow and calm, slithering and reptilian in its inflection. “You assured me your security force would be able to keep my supply depots safe.”

“You didn’t tell me that we’d be guarding it against a walking death machine.”

“You are a bounty hunter and a Mandalorian. You are trained to handle all manner of threats.”

“That thing killed _fifteen_ Mandalorians. Well-trained Mandalorians. Friends of mine.”

“That is irrelevant,” Prince Xizor’s voice snapped. “What is of interest to me is my clients, who will now be robbed of another shipment of spices.”

Corey snorted in both derision and morbid amusement, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? This thing wasn’t after your drugs. It just appeared out of nowhere, killed everything in sight, then disappeared. It didn’t steal your cargo. It burned the depot to the ground.”

There was a long pause, then:

“Explain yourself. What happened at Depot Fifteen?”

Corey took a deep breath. “As you’re aware, I was hired as a security overseer for Depot Fifteen on the Telosian Plains. I said that I wouldn’t be able to defend the depot with your _di'kutla_ grunts, so I hired on fifteen _Mando_ _’ade_ to bolster the security forces.”

“Yes,” Xizor said, his voice silky-soft with contempt. “I hired them at great expense, as I recall.”

“It’s not cheap to hire the best.”

“And yet here you stand, alone and with nothing to show for your skills but a burned-down depot.”

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Corey insisted. “This guy tore through us like flittersilk. There wasn’t much we could do.”

“What happened on the day in question?” came another Falleen voice, a female this time. “Go into every detail you can remember.”

Corey stared at the floor for a time, ignoring the flashing information thrown up by his helmet’s HUD. He gathered his thoughts, thinking of what to say. 

“This guy attacked at dawn,” he began. “All fifteen of us were on patrol around the perimeter when Ruusaan noticed a breach in the perimeter defense. She went to check it out, thinking it was just a wild Kath hound or something. She was gone for fifteen minutes before we sent someone to look for her.”

“And?” Xizor pressed.

“Someone had ripped her head from her shoulders and spitted her body on the razor wire on the top of the compound fence.” The sight haunted him even two weeks after the fact. Seeing his friend stuck up there like waiting prey for some great beast. “There was blood everywhere, and her head was missing. We could only assume that whoever - _whatever_ \- had killed her took it as a trophy or something.”

He grimaced and looked in the direction he assumed Prince Xizor was sitting. “I’ve been from one end of this galaxy to the other. I’ve seen a lot of horrible things that would make even hardened special forces troopers wet their armor. Hell, I’ve _done_ a lot of those things. But this?”

He shook his head and murmured, “It was the most _ori'suumyc_ thing I’ve ever seen. I felt like I was going to throw up.”

There was a long pause from Xizor before the prince murmured, “You have my attention. Continue.”

“Things only got worse after that. Perimeter breaches started showing all over the compound, but when our guys got there to check it out, there was nothing there.” He frowned and held out his hands about two feet apart. “The team found these huge three-toed tracks about this wide all around the place. And they were fresh. Whatever had made them had been there only a few minutes before.”

“Show us,” Xizor commanded.

Corey tapped a command into his gauntlet datapad and a shimmering image of the footprints sprang to life in the air in front of him, rotating slowly.

“They said the footprints looked vaguely reptilian in origin,” Corey said, staring at the holo, “and that whatever the thing was, it must have weighed almost half a ton. But they couldn’t think of anything that would make this kind of tracks.”

“A local species, perhaps?” came the female’s voice.

He shook his head again. “The recon group only had enough time to transmit the holos back before we lost contact with them. We knew instantly that whatever had killed Ruusaan had come back, so we headed out there to back them up.”

“And what did you find?”

Corey shuddered at the memory as he said, “We weren’t able to get a good look at... well, _anything_. We found our guys fighting as we got there, just firing in random directions. These were battle-hardened Mandos, through and through, and they were _panicking_. And there was this... _thing_ , running past them, running through them, ripping them limb from limb. Every time someone landed a hit on it, it didn’t even flinch.”

He took another deep breath, almost able to hear the sounds of the battle in his head: the snap of blasterfire, the roaring of the creature, the screams of Mandalorians as the thing tore through flesh and bone with such ease that they may as well have been fighting naked.

He shook his head and said, “Paak was the first to go and that alone should have warned us to get out of there; he was the toughest _shabuir_ we had on site. The thing jumped at him, knocked him to the ground, and ripped his throat out with its teeth. He just… disappeared under this huge leathery mess that pinned him to the ground. One of our other _vode_ tried to get in there to help him, but the thing just swiped at him and knocked his head off with a single stroke, like it must have done with Ruusaan.”

“Why didn’t you subdue it with stun rounds?” the female Falleen demanded.

“What, you don’t think we _tried_ that?” Corey snapped. “I’m telling you, this thing was kriffing _indestructible_. I tried to attack it with a _shabla_ _lightsaber_ and it didn’t do _anything_!”

“Calm yourself, bounty hunter,” Xizor’s voice said, demanding obedience. “And explain what happened.”

Corey clenched his fists. “This thing tore through us, killing one Mando after another. We could barely fall back fast enough, the ground was so slick with blood, and any time we had to stop to reload our weapons the thing would just launch itself at us. It was nothing but gnashing teeth and claws. We barely got a good look at it the whole time.”

“How was it that you managed to survive?” came a deep voice that may have been human.

Corey explained, scowling at the memory. “We were in full retreat, just running for our lives. I fired at it with my jetpack missile, hoping it would slow it down at least. And the damned thing grabbed the rocket _out of the air_.”

His chest throbbed at the memory. “It threw it back at me as easily as skipping a stone and I caught the brunt of the explosion in the chest. My _beskar_ _’gam_ took most of the force of the explosion, but I was paralyzed from the neck down.

“It would have killed me,” he continued. “I was lying on the ground, unable to move, and it stepped on my chest. It... it bent over me and stared at me with these gold eyes. It was drooling like a rancor, and I remember it having at least two rows of teeth. Sharp ones. Carnivorous ones. It pulled this huge sword off its back and pressed it to my neck. I thought it was going to kill me too, but...”

“But what?” the human voice asked. “What happened?”

“The last of my security force managed to get up and shoot it twice in the head,” Corey said. “That drew the thing’s attention away from me. After that, it must have... forgotten about me, or thought I wasn’t worth the effort. It ripped my friend in half before moving on to the depot.”

He sighed, staring at the floor for a moment before saying, “This thing... it _enjoyed_ what it was doing. It was having _fun_ killing us, and that’s a viciousness I’ve never seen before. It makes me sick, and I’m a freakin’ _Mandalorian_.”

“Did this... _thing_ take any items from Depot Fifteen?” asked the female Falleen.

“No,” Corey said, shaking his head. “It just tossed an incendiary detonator through the front door and blew the place to hell. The depot burned for four hours, destroying everything inside.”

“And where did this mysterious attacker go?” Xizor asked coldly. “Did it have a transport?”

“No,” Corey said. “It took off on foot and disappeared into the foothills to the east. A couple hours later, one of your Black Sun supply runs stopped by and found the depot in ruins. They picked me up, reported the incident to you... and here we are.”

“Indeed,” Xizor said quietly, thoughtfully. After a long pause, he said, “Very well. You may leave. Your reports have proved most... enlightening.”

“And what are your next orders? Do you want me to track this thing down?”

“No,” came the female Falleen’s voice. “You have clearly shown your ineptitudes merely guarding a depot against this being, even with fifteen fellow Mandalorians at your back. You will be contacted when we have further need of your services.”

He wanted to argue, but he knew it was both useless and dangerous to argue with the likes of these beings. So Corey bowed at the waist, fuming only on the inside at the contempt in the female’s voice. Then he spun on his heel and stormed out of the large, dark room. Once again, he could feel the multitude of gazes on him as he left, and when the large entrance door slid shut behind him, he’d never felt more relieved in his life.

He shook his head and cursed as he strode through the extravagant hallways of Xizor’s mansion, heading back for the landing pad where he’d left his ship.

Whatever this thing was, it needed to be dealt with. It had killed fellow _Mando_ _’ade_ , brothers and sisters of all true Mandalorians. That made this a personal fight for any Mando in the galaxy. And even if Xizor wouldn’t trust him to get the job done, Corey knew someone he would.

He just hoped the hunter would be up to the challenge.

~~~~~~~~

Within the dark room, Prince Xizor stroked his chin and narrowed his violet eyes. “It is obvious that this being is not simply a dissatisfied ex-employee as previously suggested.”

“This is the fifth attack this month,” said the female Falleen sitting to his left. “It is growing increasingly difficult to keep these hits under wraps.”

“This has to be dealt with,” came the deep human man’s voice from the shadows.

Xizor nodded in agreement. This was a situation that threatened his entire organization. If his customers caught wind that there was something out there destroying supply depots, they wouldn’t think their business was safe with Xizor, and they would gladly turn to lesser beings like Jabba the Hutt or Sekha. It was a long time before he spoke.

“We shall deal with this as we have in the past,” he murmured. He turned to the female Falleen sitting next to him and said, “Spread the word. There will be a great reward for any being willing to investigate and capture this mysterious attacker. I want this bounty on all channels open to us; I want to see it on Imperial databases, to hear it whispered in the halls of Jabba the Hutt’s palace. I want every mercenary in the galaxy to hear of this, and I want them on the job as soon as possible.”

The Falleen female murmured, “It shall be done.”

Xizor turned back to the shaft of light that Corey Black had occupied only moments before.

“By this time next week,” he murmured, “I want that being’s head on a pike in the center of this room.”


	2. The Battle Circle

**Keldabe, Mandalore**

Cheers thundered through the stands as the two blades clashed together, hard enough make the fighter’s arms shake. The two grappled for a moment, then one pushed away from the other and they fell back to circle each other. Both were breathing hard and sweat darkened their suits.

Jay, standing in the fighter’s trench some meters away, clapped her gloved hands together and called, “Get in there Jaing! You can do it!”

She didn’t know if he’d heard her, but he certainly took her request to heart. The blue-armored Mandalorian spun his _beskad_ deftly in his hand and darted forward, coming at his opponent with a speedy attack of diagonal slashes and powerful stabs. His opponent, a Mandalorian woman in red-black armor, deflected the attacks and spun quickly to evade a slash at her head.

Jaing stepped forward, every motion filled with ferocious intent while the woman backpedaled, echoing his motions with deadly grace. The two paused near the center of the circle and Jaing raised his sword above his head in a traditional Mando combat stance. His opponent slowly adopted a more open stance, her own blade pointed toward the ground. They once again fell into step around each other, circling and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Brianna, standing next to Jay, pointed to Jaing’s feet.

“See how he keeps most of his weight on his front foot?” she said. “That’s important in melee combat, especially as the aggresor. You need to be able to leap forward, but not sacrifice so much mobility that you can’t back up if your enemy pulls something.”

Jay craned her neck, trying to see more of the fight. The woman had suddenly darted forward, aiming a feint toward her opponent’s ribs before ripping her blade up to shoulder-height. Jaing ducked the swipe to the head and fell to his knees, bringing his sword around over his left shoulder. His blade scored a mark up the red-black Mandalorian’s back plate and tore her shin-length black cape.

Cheers erupted through the arena. Spectators clapped, jeered, and screamed. Many either raised their left fists or slashed horizontally in the air, reinforcing their opinions with cheers or boos. Jay had learned early on during the tournament that a raised fist meant support for a simulated killing blow, while a horizontal slash said that it was just a flesh wound and therefore not eligible for the scoring charts.

The large readouts above the battle arena flashed a raised-fist symbol and switched from reading _Skirata: 1, Tracyn: 2,_ to reading, _Skirata: 2, Tracyn: 2._ A thunderous chorus of applause erupted through the stands outside the fighting pit and Jay could almost feel the vibrations from hundreds of feet stomping wildly.

“ _I can honestly say,_ vode _, that I haven_ _’t seen a fight this serious in a very long time_ ,” boomed the announcer over the speakers set up around the arena. The loud, metallic Strap music that had been blaring through the speakers died to allow him to be heard. “ _Let_ _’s see if Skirata has the moves to unseat our current dueling champion!_ ”

Rame slapped a palm against the trench wall and called, “You can do it Jaing! Wipe the floor with her ass!”

“Don’t listen to them, Tal!” Brianna shouted to her own favored contender, grinning widely as the fight continued. “You’re at least fifteen years younger than Skirata! You can take him!”

They were all standing within the prep ring that surrounded the Battle Circle arena, offering an unparalleled view of the battle unfolding outside. All around Jay, Mandos and non-Mandos alike were suiting up and practicing for their own battles, or just waiting their turn and watching the fight. Some talked among themselves, some sat alone while lost in their own thoughts, and some even laid bets on who would be the victor of the current duel. One man was even dozing off with his helmet propped on his gently-rising chest.

She heard friendly arguments, laughing, and excited shouting as the Battle Circle gladiators geared up for their fights. Everywhere she looked, the usually curt, laconic Mandalorians were as giddy as younglings in a sweetshop. She wasn’t surprised; from all she’d heard as the tournament date grew nearer, the Battle Circle was the single most popular competition in the Mandalorian culture. Not even _meshgeroya -_ the supposed ‘beautiful game’ and a Mandalorian favorite - came close to the adrenaline and heady excitement of the Battle Circle. Mandos from all over the planet had traveled thousands of miles to mass in Keldabe for the competition, while others had traveled from as far as Imperial City to be present for this momentous occasion.

The physical battle circle was a fairly large circular arena, maybe nine meters across with a blue-white padded floor along the bottom. The entire arena was set a few meters into the ground so there would be no disputes over who was out of bounds. Once one entered the Circle, there was quite literally no exit until the duel was over, one way or another. Large viewscreens dominated the heights above the arena, showing the close-up details of the duels for the masses of spectators in the stands. The entire complex had been built into the field where the Stunball pitch had once resided near MandalMotors tower. The reasons were simply practical: once the tournament was over, the Battle Circle would be disassembled and returned to its previous state.

The only detraction from the scene was that the Imperial Governor of Mandalore - a portly man named Utam - had decided to be present, and he had posted security forces accordingly. Jay was far from happy to see the lines of stormtroopers in their polished white armor, standing guard and keeping watch over the festivities. And from the dirty looks, thrown shoulders, and outright yelling, many of the Mandalorians present shared her sentiments.

She made a point of turning back to the fight, ignoring the detractors from such an otherwise enjoyable day. A frigid breeze wafted through the area, but the Mandalorians in their temp-controlled armor suits didn’t seem to notice. Jay, however, rubbed her gloved hands together and zipped up her black armorleather jacket. It was the middle of winter now on Mandalore, and it seemed to get colder with every day that passed. The sky was covered in blue-gray clouds with shafts of light piercing through the dark cloud layer.

“So where’s Vhetin?” she inquired. “I haven’t seen him in a while. He’ll probably want to see this.”

Brianna tore her gaze away from the fight and looked around, a slight frown creasing her face. “I don’t know. Probably getting ready; he’s up for a duel himself in a couple minutes.”

“I hate to admit it,” Jay said, “but I’m actually enjoying myself.”

“Even though you can’t fight yourself?”

Because the Imperials were present, Jay couldn’t risk fighting in the tournament and having someone recognize her as the prison escapee who’d had a six thousand credit bounty on her head only months ago. But she still nodded. “Yeah. I’m glad we decided to do this instead of having just a normal training session.”

Someone clapped her on the shoulder and said, “That’s the spirit. I told you you’d have fun.”

Jay turned to see a white-armored Mandalorian woman standing behind her, hefting a long, thin _beskad_. A white shoulder cape was draped over one arm, the edge just brushing against the red stripe down her armor’s chest plates. Apart from other red dashes here and there, her armor was otherwise unmarked and unadorned. The woman pulled her helmet off and set it on the bench in front of them, revealing a beautiful face and long blond hair pulled into a messy bun.

“Oh,” Jay said, relaxing. “Mia, it’s just you. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

Rame’s wife ran her hands through her hair, which was twisted up in a tangled mess that Mandalorians colloquially called _buy'ce-gemas_ or _helmet-hair_ , and smiled as she greeted everyone.

“I see Janada came through with that new kit,” Brianna said, eying the woman’s armor set with an appraising eye. “How does it feel?”

“Heavier than usual,” Mia grinned, a gesture that made her — if possible — even more striking, and drew appreciative stares from all over the prep trench. “I’m not used to prancing around in armor like my husband. But I’m getting used to it.”

She stepped up next to Rame, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, then turned to the fight with interest. She winced as Jaing caught a boot to the face (which drew raucous cheers from the stands above) and said, “How’s he holding up?”

“Well enough,” Brianna replied. “He’s pulling the fight out to a draw, and Tracyn’s not backing down for love or money. It’s a good match, I think. How was your practice with Ordo?”

“He’s all moody again,” Mia replied, not taking her eyes off the fight, “and he gets wicked fast with a sword when he does. That, and he’s been practicing since last year. He’s gotten considerably better since our last meet-up.”

“Does he have a chance?” Jay inquired.

Mia shot her a wink in return. “If he did, he wouldn’t have to try so hard.”

Jay grinned. On the outside Mia may have looked like a beautiful, humble housewife, but she had a resilience hidden beneath the surface that rivaled that of even the most hardened Mandalorian. Many, Jay included, openly admired the woman’s inner strength. It was just a pity she wasn’t a bounty hunter.

Mia leaned against the front wall of the trench, watching the fight with eyes narrowed in intense interest. “I’m more interested in Jaing’s fight right now. I didn’t know the old boy had it in him for a duel this intense.”

“Chronologically he’s only in his late twenties,” Rame reminded her.

“But _biologically_ he’s over fifty,” his wife replied. “And that takes a toll.”

Rame shrugged and turned his attention back to the fight, booing as Tracyn slashed her saber across Jaing’s stomach plate. The older Mando staggered back, a thin silver line of scraped paint marring the smooth gray of his armor. Across the arena, a horizontal-slash symbol appeared on the screens, signaling for the fight to continue.

“I don’t think Jaing’s age is what’s standing in his way,” Jay said, leaning against the trench wall. “It’s his opponent; Tracyn is a pretty impressive fighter. I think she could even show Vhetin a thing or two.”

Rame chuckled. “Don’t write Vhetin off just yet. At least not until you see him perform.”

“Why?” Brianna said, looking over at him. “Have they released who he’s fighting?”

There was a scattering of _oohs_ and _aahs_ from the crowd as Jaing caught his opponent with a fist to the gut, then followed up with a punch to the chin that sent the Mando woman staggering back clutching at her face. Jay flinched but grinned at the clone’s relentlessness. She knew from the course of the battle already that Tracyn could give as good as she got. And if the woman’s furiously clenched fists and hunched shoulders were any indication, she’d be giving pretty freely soon.

Tracyn scrambled to her feet, holding her stomach as Jaing approached, ready to press his advantage. The crowd cheered as their sabers clashed once more, and Tracyn caught Jaing in the stomach with the tip of her armored boot. He doubled up, just in time for Tracyn to drive the hilt of her sword into his faceplate with an audible _crack_.

“Vhetin’s finally on the lists.” Rame nudged Brianna with an elbow and passed her a datapad. The huntress took it and scrolled through the posted fights until she stopped and her mouth dropped open.

“You’re kidding, right?” she said with a growing grin. “Someone hit me, because I must be dreaming.”

“What? Why?” Jay said, taking the datapad. She squinted as she hunted through the list of Mandalorian names until she found Vhetin. His name was partnered with...

“Who’s Gotab?” she asked.

Mia grinned, still watching the fight outside the trench. “Just one of the best swordsman on Mandalore. He was the champion for five years running a few seasons ago. Then Tracyn took him down and took the title. Since then he’s laid low, waiting for the right time and the right fighting event.”

“Looks like he’s got it,” Brianna said, “if they’re going to have him fight Vhetin.”

Jaing was thrown onto his back and attempted to roll aside as Tracyn leaped forward. He moved away, kicking out desperately with his right foot. He caught the woman in the side of the helmet and sent her sprawling. The old clone scrambled to press his advantage, swinging his blade down and pressing it to Tracyn’s throat as the other fighter attempted to leap back to her feet.

The red-black Mando tensed for a moment, as if thinking of retaliation, then finally relaxed and raised her hands in submission. The stands erupted into cheers and raised fists as the readout flashed to read, _Skirata: 3, Tracyn: 2._

“And that’s it, _vode_!” the announcer cried over the intercom. “Jaing Skirata is the clear and honorable victor! Give it up for our _new_ shortsword _champion_!”

Jaing paid no attention to the cheering from his supporters or the booing from others. He just knelt and grasped Tracyn’s forearm, hauling his fellow fighter to her feet. She nodded approval and seemed to exchange a few words with the old clone. They were too far away to hear, however, and the audio receptors set up around the arena were too flooded by the roar from the spectators to pick up their conversation. They shared a short, hard embrace, clapping each other’s backs in congratulation of a good fight. No hard feelings.

Jaing then turned to the crowd and threw his hands into the air in a victory stance, waving to his supporters. Tracyn waved as well as the viewscreens above them replayed some of the fight’s more memorable moments: the time near the beginning of the duel when Tracyn had front-flipped over Jaing’s sword blade, the time when Jaing had deflected his opponent’s attack with merely his dueling gauntlet, and, of course, Jaing’s impressive turnaround to victory.

After a few more moments, the two Mandos strode toward the exit together, no apparent animosity between them. Small droplets of rain began to fall as they disappeared through a large door along one side of the arena.

For Mandalorians, the point of the Battle Circle wasn’t about who won. It was about the fight itself, and the knowledge and glory one could gain from combating a worthy opponent. Jay had heard of the philosophy before when learning about the ancient Echani warrior race while in the Academy. It didn’t surprise her that it was so similar for Mandalorians.

 _I guess when most of their culture revolves around their warriors and their notoriety as mercenaries,_ she thought, _it_ _’s only natural that they perfect their fighting until it’s part of who they are. And when they’re already the best, one fight is as good as another so long as it’s a worthy one._

She applauded with the rest as Jaing and Tracyn left the Battle Circle. A large door slid shut behind them, clearing them from view. Once they were gone, the lights suddenly dimmed until the illumination from the cloudy sky was the only light in the arena. After a few moments of silence to let the crowd settle down, the announcer adopted a more serious tone.

“Now, _vode_ of all shapes, sizes, ages, and races, we of the Battle Circle have a very special event this year... one that promises to have every single one of you on the edges of your seats.”

The crowd went almost instantly silent, their attention drawn to the Circle once more.

“We _Mando_ _’ade_ pride ourselves on our adoption of other races: their technology, weapons, and martial arts. There is no one we can’t learn from, even our enemies. So now, for the first time _ever_ in the MandalMotors’ Six-Hundredth Annual Battle Circle Tournament, I give you...” the announcer paused for dramatic effect, “the first match of the melee lightsaber event!”

The viewscreen flashed and was overlaid with the symbol of the Mandalorian emblem - the menacing mythosaur skull - behind two crossed lightsaber blades, one blue, and one green. The image was accompanied by the infamous _crackle-hiss_ of the igniting blades and the accompanying synthetic hum of light-charged plasma.

There was a pause as the crowd slowly began to realize what they were about to witness. Then the entire stadium exploded into cheers and stomping and howls of excitement. Jay grinned at the crowd’s jubilation. As one of the few who’d seen Vhetin in action, she knew they were in for a good show. She didn’t know about this Gotab guy, though. If he was good enough to stand up to Vhetin, he must be worth all the excitement too.

As the crowd eventually began to calm down, the viewscreen’s crossed saber symbol faded and the camera view returned, zooming in on the large door on the northern curve of the arena. With a low rumble the durasteel door retracted, revealing a shadowy form within.

“Our first contender,” the announcer continued, “from the mysterious bastion known as Kyrimorut, the brother of our newest shortsword melee champion and the former melee champion for five consecutive seasons... _vode an,_ I am proud to give you Gotab Skirata!”

At his cue, an athletic-looking Mandalorian in dull green-black armor jogged to the center of the Battle Circle, igniting a lightsaber of the same shade of dark green as his armor’s _beskar_ plates. Jay heard the familiar _snap-hiss_ of the blade’s activation, even over the cheering of the spectators. The Circle’s audio receptors caught the sound and amplified it, further driving the point home that the new fighters would duel with the most deadly melee weapon in existence.

“And our challenger,” the announcer said, “a man you all know even if only by reputation, one of _Manda_ _’yaim’s_ premier bounty hunters and the current shockstaff melee champion for three consecutive years, let’s hear it for... Cin Vhetin!”

The southern door rumbled open and Vhetin’s familiar black-gray form strode to the center of the Circle, activating his blue-bladed saber pike with a flourish as he went. Cheers shook the Battle Circle as the viewscreens zoomed in on both contestants; Jay noticed that there was considerably less applause to greet Vhetin.

 _Probably because so few people know anything about him,_ she thought. Vhetin’s mystique didn’t exactly make him popular in Keldabe; Mandalorians generally didn’t like their own _vode_ keeping secrets from them. In a society as communal as that of the Mandos, such a secretive nature made one more an outsider from the established pack.

On the other hand, Gotab was certainly a crowd pleaser. He was clapping back at the crowd and raising his hands as the spectators shouted his name. Vhetin was his usual self. He looked around the crowd and waved as much as necessary, but was much less social than Gotab. His full attention was fixed on the other Mando.

Jay unconsciously copied Vhetin’s tactics out of reflex, evaluating everything about Gotab. She watched his walk, seeing if he had any limp, evaluated his athletic form, estimated his overall skill. From what she could see, the man was a seasoned warrior; he walked with that same warrior’s grace that she had noticed in Vhetin upon their first meeting, and upon closer inspection, she thought she even saw a bit of Gotab’s stance in Vhetin’s movements. There was an undeniable similarity in their gait, that deadly grace that projected a strong _don_ _’t mess with me_ vibe.

According to the datapad stats, Gotab was proficient in a lightsaber form called Ataru, apparently all spinning and flashy lightsaber tricks but extremely deadly in the right hands. The same stats also listed Vhetin as skilled in a form called Makashi, a very deadly form that was almost all aggression with a smattering of defensive moves thrown in for protection.

It would certainly make for an interesting fight: Gotab’s practiced skill and dexterity versus the raw aggression that Jay had witnessed pouring forth from Vhetin on several occasions. Jay found herself watching the proceedings intently.

As the two fighters approached the center of the battle circle, the Overseer - a kind of referee - stepped between them and exchanged a few muted words that the audio speakers didn’t pick up.

Dressed in highly reflective red armor that made him stand out against the blue of the Battle Circle, the Overseer was arguably the most important member of the Battle Circle crew. He made sure the fight didn’t get out of hand, and he was charged with breaking up the fight in the rare occasions that it did. He had a stun prod on his belt and a long-handled _beskar_ longsaber sheathed across his back in case things got ugly.

“And now for the ritual reading of the rules,” the announcer said, his voice hushed with something akin to awe. The stands were suddenly silent, not so much as a cough or muttered word.

The Overseer’s voice was gravelly as it suddenly boomed out across the stadium. He looked between the two contestants and said, “Rule One: No one dies in the battle circle. No death blows and no _accidents_. Also with the _jetii'kads_ in play, no amputations are allowed. Do you understand?”

Vhetin and Gotab both said they did, and the Overseer continued, “Rule Two: use only the weapons that are assigned to you. Fists and feet are allowed, but no external weapons are honorable. You lose your _jetii_ _’kad_ and you’re on your own. Do you understand?”

“I do,” the hunters said in unison.

“Rule Three: no external equipment. Physical talents, traits, and skills are allowed, but no hidden stim packs, spices, or powered armor equipment are honorable. Use only your strength, your stamina, and your own ingenuity to gain the upper hand in combat. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“Any deviation from these rules will result in a dishonorable disqualification from the Battle Circle tournament.” He looked between the two again and said, “Do you understand and accept the rules of the Battle Circle?”

The two contenders nodded and the Overseer slowly nodded back. He turned to the crowd, taking three carefully measured steps away from the contestants, and raised an open palm. The rain was starting to come down harder now, making the lightsabers pop and hiss as the water evaporated on their blades of thrumming, pulsating energy.

Vhetin and Gotab tensed, each falling into their chosen combat stance. Gotab placed his right foot forward and held his saber steadily over his head, his gloves flexing over the contoured grip of his saber hilt in an openly aggressive stance. Vhetin bent his knees and held his saber pike out behind him, the hilt resting along his outstretched left arm while his right hand moved forward in a cautious neutral combat stance; there was no telling what he would unleash first.

The Overseer made a fist, which hundreds of spectators around them mirrored, even Rame, Mia, and Brianna.”

With a shout of “ _Nynir!_ _”_ which roughly meant “Fight!” The Overseer swung his fist down, and the fight began.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin knew better than to attack right away. Doing so would be reckless and overly dangerous. So he kept his neutral stance and slowly began to circle Gotab. The older Mando didn’t attack either, and shifted his feet to keep Vhetin in view.

“Nervous?” Gotab asked, a definite note of mischievousness in his tone.

“Not a bit,” Vhetin replied with a small smile. “You don’t scare me, old man.”

“Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Vhetin attacked first: feinted to the left, then spun and slashed from the right. Gotab blocked the surprise blow effortlessly, his glowing green blade sending a shower of sparks raining across the both of them as it slammed against Vhetin’s blue one. Vhetin followed up with a reverse-slash with the long hilt of his longer weapon, knocking Gotab in the ribs. The strength of the lightsaber pike lay in its high maneuverability and reach: a long staff capped with a deadly lightsaber blade, it was far more versatile than Gotab’s traditional sword.

But if the other Mando felt the blow, he didn’t show it. He just trapped the blunt end of Vhetin’s saber pike under his arm and kicked out with his boot. He caught Vhetin in the chest and sent him staggering away. The younger Mandalorian was barely able to maintain his grip on his saber pike’s shaft. He quickly regained his footing, swinging back to Gotab and pointing his blade at his opponent’s chest in an openly offensive stance. Gotab’s step didn’t falter, and he just stepped forward and unleashed his attack. Slashes and stabs and ripostes were thrown at Vhetin with blinding speed.

Vhetin backpedaled, frantically blocking slashes and stabs that were all as powerful as any killing blow. For an old Clone Wars veteran, Gotab was still as strong as he must have been in his youth. As Vhetin was pushed back against the Battle Circle wall, he grimaced and thought _, all right, I need to end this_ _before things get seriously out of hand._

He shoved with all his might against Gotab’s blade, sending the Mando staggering away; he may have been strong, but Vhetin was much stronger. The black-armored Mandalorian spun and stabbed the blunt end of his staff against his opponent’s faceplate before quickly spinning the other way, dropping, and hooking the shaft of his weapon across the back of Gotab’s knees and sending him sprawling to the ground in a crash of armor plates. Gotab was quick to return to his feet, but within the blink of an eye Vhetin’s glowing blue lightsaber blade was hovering only inches away from his throat.

A smattering of cheers echoed through the Battle Circle as a black raised-fist symbol flashed across the arena’s viewscreens. After a moment Vhetin stepped back and offered a hand to help Gotab to his feet. The other Mando took his hand as nearby fighters standing in the fighter’s trench clapped Vhetin on the backplate in congratulations.

“Nice moves,” Gotab grunted as he regained his balance. “You actually had me goin’ there for a while.”

“That makes the score Vhetin: one, Gotab: _naas_ ,” Vhetin said, grinning behind his helmet’s faceplate.

“Beginner’s luck,” Gotab said as they walked back to the center of the Battle Circle. “You won’t get that lucky again.”

“I don’t know,” Vhetin said as they fell into their battle stances once more. “I’ve learned some new moves since I trained with you.”

“You were a good trainee,” Gotab admitted as the Overseer started their fight again. He darted forward, trying to penetrate Vhetin’s defenses as he said, “But you’re a fool if you think I taught you everything I know.”

Vhetin spun his saber pike in a full 360-degree circle and Gotab’s strike bounced off the _beskar_ shaft. Vhetin slid his saber pike along the glowing lightsaber blade, deactivating his own blue blade for a moment to hammer at Gotab’s stomach and ribs with both ends of the weapon. The older Mando grunted and kneed Vhetin in the chest, forcing him a few steps back.

Vhetin put a hand to his chest, breathing hard as he raised his saber pike one-handed and once more adopted a defensive stance.

“Your form is good,” Gotab said, crossing his saber in a lazy X in front of his chest, “but you’re not using the appropriate mix of saber skills and physical fighting. You’re focused too much on one or the other.”

Vhetin shook his head as their lightsabers clashed again. “This isn’t another one of your training exercises, old man. Try to stay focused.”

“And you need to learn to relax,” Gotab replied as he nimbly dodged out of the way of Vhetin’s next strike. He didn’t even flinch as Vhetin brought the blunt end of his weapon down at his head. He just blocked and caught Vhetin in the ribs with a roundhouse kick. Using the momentum from the kick, Gotab leaped nimbly into the air and caught his opponent in the faceplate with a blow hard enough to send Vhetin head-over-heels.

Instinct punched in. While twisting in mid air, Vhetin shifted his weight, kicking out with his arms and legs and landing on his feet a meter away. He glanced up at Gotab and grinned again, his face throbbing.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” he said, standing and bringing his blade up again.

Gotab nodded in appreciation. “Acrobatic. I’m impressed, but not frightened.”

As their blades met again, Gotab grunted, “So... do you have gymnastic equipment up at the bastion? Or do you just do cartwheels when you think no one’s looking?”

Vhetin chuckled darkly as he shoved the older man away and moved forward to press his advantage, spinning and whirling his saber pike around himself in blinding arcs that would cut any un-armored being to pieces. Sparks flew from their lightsabers and skittered away across the arena floor as their spectators screamed their approval at the fight unraveling in front of them.

“Give it up, old man,” Vhetin growled as their sabers locked against each other once more. He shoved against the green blade in front of his eyes and said, “I’m younger, fitter, and faster than you.”

Vhetin could almost see Gotab’s grin through his helmet. “Well, you know how much the crowd loves an underdog.”

Gotab suddenly relaxed his grip on his lightsaber and caught Vhetin in the chin with a strong uppercut. Vhetin was knocked backwards off his feet, cursing as he landed on his back, his jaw throbbing worse than before now. In an instant, Gotab’s boot landed on Vhetin’s chestplate, pinning him to the ground as the other Mando’s green blade descended and pointed at Vhetin’s neck.

“You were saying?” Gotab asked calmly as cheers erupted through the stands and a raised-fist symbol - green to symbolize Gotab’s armor - flashed across the viewscreens. The speakers set up around the arena blasted a quick sound bite of the _Vode An_ , the closest Mandalorians had to an anthem, and Vhetin heard the announcer cry, “What a turnaround! The score is now tied, _solus_ -to- _solus_ between Cin Vhetin and Gotab Skirata!”

As Vhetin clambered back to his feet he heard Brianna’s voice behind him calling, “Come on _cyar_ _’ika!_ You can do it!”

He turned his gaze slightly as he walked and saw Bri, Rame, Mia, and Jay standing in the fighter’s trench, clapping for him and cheering him on.

Rame’s voice joined Brianna’s, shouting, “Come on Cin! You can fight better than this!”

Vhetin narrowed his eyes, thinking, _Rame is right. Time to stop holding back. Special biological abilities are allowed. Time to use them._

He stepped forward, igniting his lightsaber blade once more as Gotab settled into a neutral stance in the center of the Battle Circle. His heart was pumping as the red-armored Overseer raised his fist again.

At the shout of “ _Nynir!_ _”_  Vhetin adopted a different tack. Instead of cautiously circling his enemy, or even madly rushing in to attack, he backpedaled. Gotab’s body language was one of clear surprise, but he cautiously followed Vhetin, saber at the ready.

Vhetin kept backing up, slowly luring the older Mando closer and closer to the arena wall.

 _That_ _’s it,_ he thought, his face a mask of determination as they approached the wall. _Come on... just a few feet closer_.

But Gotab wouldn’t fall for his ploy forever. He needed a distraction. So Vhetin jumped forward, spinning his saber pike at shoulder-height and slamming the blunt end against Gotab’s blade. He quickly reversed his grip and brought the saber blade down at his opponent. Gotab raised a _beskar_ gauntlet and the lightsaber bounced off it like a rock off a durasteel wall.

But Vhetin still wasn’t done. He fell to his knees and slashed out with the shaft of his weapon, hitting Gotab in the armored shins before coming to his feet again and landing a jumping kick in the center of the other Mando’s chest.

As planned, Gotab’s back slammed against the arena wall and he shook his head, momentarily disoriented.

Vhetin sprinted toward him, leaping into the air and pushing himself off the wall with one foot. He lashed out with his boot, catching Gotab with a kick to the side of the helmet. The older Mando cried out in surprise as he was thrown to the ground, his saber skittering away across the ground and deactivating with a hiss.

Boos erupted from the stands as Vhetin landed hard on his feet and stepped forward. But he wasn’t about to cheat. Instead, he tossed his weapon aside as Gotab got to his feet and raised his fists in challenge. Once again, they began to circle each other, waiting for the perfect moment to attack. They traded a few sporadic punches, testing each other’s defenses.

There was no denying that Gotab was strong and fit, but now Vhetin was in his element. Hand-to-hand fighting was a specialty of his, and he was a Level 4 Teräs Käsi practitioner. Most beings wouldn’t stand a whole minute against his skills.

But Gotab was a seasoned warrior, a veteran of the Clone Wars. He was a Teräs Käsi fighter himself, though not at the level Vhetin used. He was able to effectively hold Vhetin at bay while the younger hunter lashed out with wild punches, flip-kicks, even triple-kicks while in the air. Gotab staggered back as Vhetin front flipped and caught him in the shoulders with both his boots. Vhetin came to his feet again, throwing spinning kicks, punches, and headbutts that would cripple any being stupid enough not to wear armor.

As Gotab stumbled away, Vhetin broke into a run, leaping into the air with one of his gravity-defying jumps as soon as he was close enough. He threw himself sideways, wrapped his boots around Gotab’s neck, and spun as he landed, sending his opponent crashing to the ground with an impact that made everyone in the stadium flinch.

Vhetin struggled to his feet again, every muscle in his body screaming in protest, as he knelt over Gotab. He ignored the mix of cheers and boos alike as he wrapped a gloved hand around Gotab’s throat and panted, “Do you... yield?”

“A Mandalorian... never yields,” Gotab gasped.

Vhetin was about to continue their fight when he heard an almost deafening _snap-hiss_. He looked down and saw that Gotab’s green lightsaber was in the older man’s hand and the blade was pointed right under Vhetin’s chin.

Gotab chuckled breathlessly and deactivated the lightsaber as the stadium exploded into cheers and a raised-fist symbol flashed across the screen.

“You thought you were so... clever, luring me toward the wall earlier,” he said as he clambered to his feet. “And you didn’t even notice that _I_ was luring _you_ towards my lightsaber.”

“Smart move,” Vhetin grudgingly admitted as he moved to retrieve his own discarded weapon. “I have to give credit where it’s due.”

“Now...” Gotab breathed as they fell into their battle stances once more. “Watch the master at work.”

Then the Overseer shouted “ _Nynir_!” once more, and they went back to work.

The lightsaber rules were slightly altered from normal Battle Circle procedure: the winner had to be two killing blows ahead of their opponent to claim victory. In that way, the duel was prolonged for the spectator’s enjoyment. As a result, their fight lasted a long time, much longer than any previous duel that day. They fought their way back and forth across the arena, sabers flashing, fists flying. The crowd cheered and booed along with every punch, kick, or slash, screaming their approval as their favored contenders were able to get the upper hand on their opponent. The scoreboard numbers slowly increased from 2 to 3 to eventually 6.

Then, when the seventh round was in full-force, and the score read _Vhetin: 6, Skirata: 7,_ Gotab suddenly caught Vhetin with an uppercut to the chin with the deactivated hilt of his lightsaber. Vhetin’s head snapped back, and he heard a loud ripping sound from his neck.

He suddenly felt fresh air on his face as his sealed combat suit ripped under the force of Gotab’s blow and his helmet bounced away across the arena. The crowd let out surprised _ooh_ s as the cams focused on his helmet slowly spinning to a halt a few meters away.

Vhetin blinked and covered his face in case the cams rotated back to him; it was as terrifying as finding himself naked in front of the crowd. Everything else suddenly ceased to exist, and his mind went blank. Without thinking, without caring about the duel, he threw his saber pike aside and dove for his helmet, scrambling after it before grasping the sides and shoving it back over his head. He let out a long, relieved breath, rolling over onto his back.

Gotab was right there, lightsaber in Vhetin’s helmeted face. Cheers erupted through the stands as a final raised-fist symbol flashed across the viewscreens. Vhetin cursed as he accepted Gotab’s hand and let the other Mando help him to his feet.

“And that’s it, _vode_!” the announcer shouted into the amplicoder. “This duel is _over_! Gotab Skirata is our new lightsaber dueling _champion_!”

It was a legal move. Any other Mandalorian would have continued the fight without a helmet. Gotab had merely pounced on his advantage, just as Vhetin would have done in his situation.

The older Mando sighed as he raised his hands in victory and waved to the cheering crowd.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered as Vhetin stepped up to his shoulder and half-heartedly waved to his own scattered supporters. “I swear I didn’t mean to-”

“Don’t worry about it,” Vhetin replied, putting a hand on the green-armored Mando’s shoulder. The man turned to him, and they shook hands before the entire crowd.

“Good fight, _Bard_ _’ika_ ,” Vhetin said, nodding in congratulations. “You’ve still got good moves for an old man.”

Gotab nodded back, saying, “I’ll let you get away with that one, Vhetin. But remember, my name is Gotab. You use that name in public again, and I may just have to beat you senseless outside the Circle as well.”

“Whatever you say,” Vhetin said, not smiling, before turning and leaving the arena without another word. His heart was still pounding at the close call with his helmet; he hadn’t expected anything like that to ever happen to him, let alone in front of virtually the entire Mandalorian population of Keldabe. He was glad the holocams had been diverted, focusing on the helmet itself for dramatic effect.

As for Gotab... well, Vhetin wasn’t about to reveal the Mandalorian swordmaster’s secret no matter how many times the old Mando beat him in the Battle Circle. The man was entitled to leave his past behind him, just as Vhetin had when he’d adopted the Mandalorian way of life.

And after all, no one knew better than Vhetin the importance of secrets.


	3. A Call to Action

**_Oyu_ ** **_’baat_ ** **Tapcaf, later that night**

Jay laughed as she sat with Rame, Mia, and Brianna at a table in the _Oyu_ _’baat_ , watching two Mando gladiators reenacting their duel with pokers from the fireplace. The loud _clang, clang_ of the durasteel pokers clashing together drew attention from all over the tapcaf, and the majority of the people present roared with laughter.

“All right, all right,” the bartender, Aramis, called, heading over and breaking up the duel. “That’s enough you two. I’m trying to keep this party free of any wounded _vode_. Remember what happened when Teriniir got drunk and started fencing with these things?”

The two gladiators reluctantly handed their weapons to the stern bartender and headed back to the crowd, where they were met with applause and claps on the back.

Jay leaned over to Rame, who was cautiously sipping at a black drink the Mandalorians called _ne'tra gal_ , and whispered, “What exactly happened that year?”

Rame chuckled and said, “Teriniir forgot that the end of the poker was red-hot. He almost burned the _Oyu_ _’baat_ to the ground.”

“Oh no,” Jay said. The _Oyu_ _’baat_ was colloquially known as the _Crossroads of Keldabe_ , and was a local favorite for Mandalorians of all shape, size, and color. That, and the tapcaf had been Jay’s home since she’d arrived on Mandalore; she was staying in one of the rented rooms above the bar. She couldn’t imagine a Keldabe without the place.

But Rame laughed and shook his head. “Don’t fret over it,” he said. “Everyone thinks its hilarious now. We host an annual bonfire in commemoration of the occasion.”

Jay narrowed her eyes and grinned, unsure of whether he was joking or not. In the end she shrugged and turned back to her own drink, a sweet fruit drink known as _tihaar_. As her gaze roamed through the crowd, she suddenly saw a familiar face in an adjoining room.

A familiar face _mask_ was more like it. Dressed in multi-colored armor that was predominantly dark gray and red, a Mandalorian man was standing with a cluster of other armored men and women who were watching a holo of the afternoon’s Battle Circle fights. The actual tournament wasn’t over until the end of the week, but the current standings in the completed rounds were subject to much-enjoyed review.

She stood from the table and made her way through the crowd of armored Mandalorians, careful not to spill her drink on the floor. As she drew closer to the multi-colored Mandalorian, she elbowed him in the shoulder and said, “Hey there.”

The man turned and took off his helmet, revealing a handsome, grinning face with short, dark hair.

“Hey there yourself,” Venku Skirata said, offering her a seat on a well-worn couch near the holo-monitor. “Nice to see you.”

Jay sniffed, grimacing as she caught whiff of a disgustingly thick, musky odor and said, “Wow. What‘s that smell?”

“What?” Venku said, staring distractedly at the hologram replaying the twin-sword match earlier in the Circle tournament. Then he started and said, “Oh yeah. You’d better strap yourself in, ‘cause these introductions are going to take a while.”

Venku proceeded to introduce her to what seemed like the entirety of the Skirata Clan. There were several different men and women that Jay had seen around Keldabe but had never met personally, as well as several Mando men who were obviously former clone troopers. Jay was introduced to Ordo, A’den, Mereel, Kom’rk, and Prudii (she had already met Jaing), as well as Niner, Fi, Atin, and Venku’s father, Darman. The latter four were apparently former members of the Republic Commando Omega Squad, while the others were former ARC troopers.

Jay, having always harbored a fascination for clone troopers even from a young age, was amazed to see these born soldiers so easily embracing their Mandalorian heritage. In all her military career, she had never met a stormtrooper who had even known the words to the Mando anthem, _Vode An_. It seemed that the Mandalorian culture wasn’t overly selective about those it welcomed into its fold, even if newcomers were former soldiers of the hated Empire.

In addition to the clones, there was Old Kal Skirata, who was dressed in dull gold armor, his white hair shaved close to his head in what looked like a military-style haircut. Sitting a little further along was another elderly man with a gaunt, severe-looking face, dressed in reflective black armor. Venku introduced him as Walon Vau. Sprawled next to him was a drooling mass of shaggy golden fur that seemed to be the source of the nauseating smell.

Jaing ambled up and sat next to the furry mass, patting it affectionately and saying, “And this is Mird, my little drooling _vod_ _’ika_.”

Jay gasped slightly as the shaggy mass of fur opened two dark, droopy eyes that regarded her with surprising intelligence. The creature, Mird, yawned widely, revealing large, sharp teeth that Jay was sure could slice through flesh and bone with ease.

“That...” Jay paused, overwhelmed by the smell. She resisted the urge to plug her nose as she gasped, “That’s a strill, isn’t it? I‘ve heard about them.”

“Correct, my dear,” Vau said, patting the creature’s head. “A local Mandalorian hunting animal. Not many wild ones left any more, except Mird.”

“It’s... um,” Jay coughed slightly, her eyes watering, “it’s very interesting.”

“Don’t be bashful,” the old man chuckled, patting Mird’s massive head. “He stinks to _haran_. But he more than makes up for it.”

The large creature unfolded six separate legs and hopped down off the couch, padding slowly up to Jay and staring at her, blinking those large, dark eyes slowly. It nuzzled her hand, then licked her with a surprisingly soft, pink tongue.

Jay laughed as the creature whined at her, begging for affection. As much as it stunk, Mird was cute. She patted its shaggy head and it sunk to the floor and rolled over, displaying its belly for her to pet.

Venku smiled at the strill’s antics, then said, “Come on, let’s head somewhere a little more private, where we can hear ourselves think.”

They made their way to a table on the other end of the room, followed closely by Mird.

As he offered her a chair, Venku said, “I was sorry to hear that you couldn’t participate in the Circle.”

Jay shrugged as Mird rolled over again at her feet. She reached down and stroked Mird’s belly, hearing a contented rumble from the creature. “I don’t mind,” she said. “I don’t think I’m skilled enough yet to earn a spot in the tournament. We’ll have to wait until next year.”

Venku looked very pleased at the idea that Jay would still be present a year later. He smiled as he eased himself into a chair across from her and said, “So how are you faring? Here in Keldabe, I mean.”

“Pretty good,” she said, “I can pretty much make my way around the entire city now. And I’m thinking of moving out of the _Oyu_ _’baat_ before too long.”

“Really?” Venku said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Yeah,” she replied. “You didn’t think I’d spend the rest of my life living above the bar, did you? I like _tihaar_ , but not that much.”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Do you need help picking out a place? I know some good apartment buildings around town. _Aruetii_ -owned, but apart from that...”

She disregarded the almost-subtle dig at _aruetiise_ , or ‘non-Mandalorians’. It was a point of pride among Mandos that they set themselves apart from other races and species. The discrimination against those who had not chosen to adopt a _Mando_ way of life wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Jay didn’t take particular offense at it, though the glares and unfriendly gestures in the street sometimes got on her nerves.

“No thank you,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ve found a place on my own, actually. It’s a few blocks to the south, a little inside the third barrier wall.”

Venku grinned. “Well, I’ll be sure to set up a house-warming party for you.”

“No you won’t,” she laughed, reaching across the table to punch his shoulder. “If there’s anything I’ve learned from Vhetin, it’s that bounty hunters do _not_ appear for surprise parties at other hunter’s homes. Hell, he still hasn’t told me where _he_ lives.”

Venku chuckled, staring off into space distractedly. They sat in silence for a time before he blinked and said, “Speaking of Vhetin, that fight between him and Gotab during the tournament was pretty impressive, wasn’t it?”

Jay nodded. “It was. I’ve actually hunted with him and I’ve never seen anything like it. Did you get a look at his face when his helmet came off?”

Venku shook his head and Jay shrugged and said, “Pity. He had his back to me.”

“He still playing the ‘mysterious warrior’ bit with you?” Venku asked sympathetically. “I’ll bet that gets annoying quick.”

She shrugged as she sipped at her drink, then admitted, “It does at times. But every time I work with him I find out more about him.”

“Good luck getting anywhere with that,” he snorted. “The mysteries never seem to stop with him. Have you figured out yet how he’s so fast and so strong?”

“Why?” she replied, narrowing her eyes. “Do you know?”

“I don’t have a clue,” her friend replied. “I’m just curious.”

“I keep guessing that he’s some kind of washout from an Imperial supersoldier program, but he’s denied it so many times that I’m almost starting to believe him.”

Venku chuckled. “ _Bavo_ _’du_ Ordo and I have a bet running between us. Ordo thinks Vhetin’s some kind of super-bred human clone, and I think he’s a cyborg.”

Jay burst out laughing so hard she almost spilled her drink. “A _cyborg_?” she managed to choke out before breaking down in laughter again.

He frowned curiously, then laughed with her. “It’s an honest guess.”

She giggled quietly a few more times before she got herself under control. They sat talking about trivial things for a time before Jay frowned and said, “And what about you?”

“Come again?”

“Well, I’ve told you how I came to Mandalore,” Jay said, remembering the conversation they’d had when she’d first met him. “What about you? Are you a convert?”

Venku grinned and thumped his chestplate proudly. “Hell no. I’m pure _Mando_ _‘ad_ , born and raised right here.”

“In the _Oyu_ _’baat_?” Jay inquired, batting her eyes innocently.

He fixed her with a friendly glare. “No, _mir'sheb_. In a bastion up in the mountains called Kyrimorut.”

“Really? What’s it like up there?” Jay asked, resting her chin on her palm.

Venku simply shrugged, but Jay said, “Come on, what’s it like? I’ve always wondered about those mountains, evert since I came here. They look amazing.”

The mountains were magnificent, snow-capped peaks, shrouded in mist but always visible in the distance. Jay remembered when she’d first seen them, when she’d thought she had never seen anything more beautiful or mysterious in her life.

“It’s really... cold,” he said. “Snow everywhere. Pretty in the summer, I guess.”

“That’s it? It’s cold and snowy?”

He shook his head in exasperation and said, “Cut me some slack, Jay. I’m not one for poetic description. You want something like that, ask my dad.”

“And what about your mom?” Jay asked, looking around the cantina. “Is she around here somewhere?”

Venku’s face was suddenly very solemn and he stared at the table distractedly. Jay frowned and said, “What? Did I say something?”

“No, um... well, my mom was killed when I was just a baby,” Venku murmured. “It’s... kind of a sensitive subject.”

“Oh,” Jay said, lost for words. “I’m... I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s not your fault. It’s an old wound, but it still hurts.”

They sat in awkward silence for a long time before Jay shook her head and changed the subject.

“And how about your performance in the Circle?” she asked, trying to sound cheery. “First place in the archery tournament! You must be proud. Brianna’s sure to give you a run for your money in the second round, though.”

He shrugged, still frowning. Jay thought that he was still thinking about his mother when she noticed that he wasn’t staring at the tabletop anymore, his gaze instead fixed her shoulder. She turned, murmuring, “What? What’s wrong?”

She saw a fully armored Mandalorian in tri-colored purple/red/black armor approaching their table. As the man drew closer, he glanced between the two of them.

“Can we help you?” Jay asked.

The man hesitated, then said, “You’re... Jay, right? Jay Kolta?”

“Jaimie Moqena now,” she corrected. “Who wants to know?”

“My name is Corey. Corey Black,” the man said, holding out a hand. Jay looked at it, glanced at Venku, then cautiously shook it.

“What can I do for you, Corey?” she asked.

“You’re Cin Vhetin’s new partner, right?”

She glanced at Venku again. She didn’t like the edge of anger in this Corey Black’s voice, and she _really_ didn’t like the array of weapons he was carrying on his armor. If this guy decided he wanted trouble, it wouldn’t be easy to restrain him.

She narrowed her eyes and slowly said, “Yes, I’m Vhetin’s partner. What do you want?”

“I need to talk to him,” Corey said. “Now.”

~~~~~~~~

**City spaceport, Keldabe**

“How about that?”

“No.”

“That?”

“Hmm... no.”

Vhetin sighed as he knelt on top of his ship, _Void_. “Seriously? I must have swapped out every fusebox in this quadrant. You’re sure the status lights are still dark?”

“Look,” came an angry female voice from a few meters beneath him, slightly muffled since she was on her back beneath his ship, “I’m laying right here, and the lights are dark.”

Vhetin sighed and shook snow off his shoulders, pulling a red wire and its green counterpart out of the fusebox and plugging them into another socket a few inches to the left. After the Battle Circle, the temperature had dropped dramatically, changing the light drizzle of rain into a lazy snowfall. It had been snowing for a few hours now, and a fine coat of white now covered every available surface.

“Did that do it?”

A sudden jet of steam exploded from beneath the ship and the woman shouted, “No! Turn it off! Turn it off!”

He quickly yanked the wires out, and the steam died instantly, floating up and fading away into the night air.

Vhetin sighed and said, “Tal, it would be easier just to buy a new _ship._ ”

The woman who had dueled Jaing in the Battle Circle earlier, Tal Tracyn, cursed under her breath and said, “Oh no, I’m determined now. I’m gonna fix this damn oxygen filter if it kills me. And if you keep randomly plugging in those _shabla_ wires, it just might.”

Vhetin chuckled quietly as he pushed the panel down and walked a few feet forward, to the next quadrant of fuseboxes. “Okay, we’re on to Electro-quadrant Fourteen. Ready?”

There was a grunt, and Tracyn’s red-black armored legs poked out from beneath the ship. A gloved hand reached out, grabbed one of the tools that were spread out on the ground around her, then disappeared back beneath the ship. There was a _clang_ of metal as she pulled the status pad out of its housing and dragged it closer. She shifted beneath the ship and said, “Okay. Give it a go.”

They worked on the ship for another fifteen minutes. Then, when Vhetin plugged the wires into a yellow socket, there was a buzz from the ship and Tracyn cried, “Got it! Status lights are... blue?”

Vhetin frowned and echoed, “Blue? They’re supposed to be either green or red.”

She was silent for a long time, then said, “Yeah, well, they’re blue. What the hell does that mean?”

Vhetin shook his head and unplugged the wires. He stepped forward, toward the next cluster of fuseboxes, and said, “It means we aren’t there yet. Moving on to Electro-quadrant Fifteen.”

“Karking blue...” he heard Tracyn quietly mutter in irritation. She paused, then said, “Why the hell did you have your oxygen filters working while on Mon Calamari anyway? You should have turned them off. All the salt in the air condensed _right_ inside the filter.”

“Hmm, let’s think,” he said sarcastically. “I was being held hostage at the time by a ruthless terrorist and her minions, fending off a Wookiee bodyguard and an Imperial officer who was secretly in league with the bounty. But you’re right. I should have dropped _everything_ just to run back to the landing pad and turn off _Void_ ’s oxygen filters.”

Tracyn grunted. “All right, point taken. There’s going to be no more trips to Mon Cal for _Void_ any time soon anyway.”

As he worked, Vhetin frowned and said, “Hey... you haven’t heard anything running through the underworld channels recently, have you?”

“About anything in particular?” she replied, grunting as she worked. A loud _clank_ sounded from beneath the ship, followed by a _crash-tinkle_ of metal against metal. “I hear a lot going through the underworld channels. Ripped-off drug deals, random assassinations, et cetera.”

“Any lucrative bounties? Anything in need of a _Mando_ _’ad_?”

“What, you’re bored already?” Tracyn scoffed, cursing as sparks skittered from beneath the ship. “You’ve only been back a week.”

“What can I say? I’m a restless individual.”

“I don’t think your new partner shares your enthusiasm,” she said, grabbing a hydrospanner from the ground. It disappeared beneath the ship as she continued her inspection of the oxygen filter and its status panel.

“Jay?” Vhetin said, frowning and pausing in his work. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Tracyn grunted as the sounds of a mechanical bolt screeching as it turned sounded from beneath the ship, “I know you aren’t the most socially-charged guy in the galaxy, but you have to see that she’s not a bounty-hunting machine like you.”

“I don’t follow.”

She sighed and slid out from beneath the ship. She fixed him with a strong, skeptical gaze that he could feel even though they were both wearing helmets and said, “I think that’s ‘cause you don’t _want_ to. Come on Stripes, do you really need someone to point everything out to you?”

When he didn’t answer, Tracyn sighed and returned to her work, muttering, “I thought you said you worked well with partners.”

“I do,” Vhetin said, returning to his own work. “When I was working with the ICF-”

“That was _Fett_ ,” she interrupted. “He doesn’t count. Have you ever worked with anyone other than a cold-hearted bastard who would rather die than admit weakness?”

When he didn’t answer, she said, “I thought so.”

“What are you proposing?” Vhetin asked. “Since you seem to be an expert on the subject, I’m all ears.”

“Don’t toss flak my way,” she grumbled. “I’m only pointing out the obvious facts that you seem to be miraculously blind to.”

“Fine,” Vhetin relented. “I’m sorry. But what do you expect me to do?”

“Listen to your partner,” she replied instantly. “Be aware of what she’s feeling, what she’s thinking. _Trust_ her.”

Vhetin frowned. It was true that he’d worked well with Boba Fett while hunting down fugitives for the Imperials, but had he ever trusted Fett?

 _I trusted him to have my back when I needed it,_ he thought. _I trusted him to complete the missions that I couldn_ _’t. But... I never trusted him on a personal level, no_.

Is that what Tracyn was saying? That he needed to get to know Jay better? To “hang out” with her more often than the occasional conversation at the _Oyu_ _’baat_?

The thought wasn’t exactly appealing. He had to admit that Jay was nice and enjoyable to be around. While working she kept him on his toes, both physically and mentally, in a way he’d never experienced before. But he hadn’t rescued her from prison, brought her here to Mandalore, and taken her on as his hunting partner because he’d wanted a _friend_.

 _Then why did I_?

The question still nagged at him. The simplest answer was that Tammer had asked him to, and that a true Mando wouldn’t turn down the request of a brother. But that answer sounded hollow in his mind. There was a deeper reason, one that he still struggled to find.

 _Maybe_ , he thought slowly, _it was because I_ wanted _to be able to trust someone again_.

“Stripes?” came Tracyn’s voice, jerking him out of his thoughts. “You gonna keep plugging in those wires, or should I just go home?”

“Sorry,” he said, picking up the wires again and plugging them into another socket. “That fix it?”

“No,” came the predictable sigh. “On to Electro-quadrant _Sixteen_.”

“So...” Vhetin said as he moved on to the next quadrant, “what I should do is listen to Jay more?”

“More than that,” she said, “You need to be able to trust her to know what she’s doing. She may be a rookie, but she knows more about herself than you ever can. You need to stop leading her along and actually work _with_ her.”

He frowned deeper, then nodded. She was right. Jay was his _partner_ , not some sidekick. She had proven herself many times over the course of their partnership already and she deserved more respect than he was currently giving her.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally said.

“Good,” Tracyn replied. “But in the meantime, we have a ship to fix. And this damn oxygen filter seems determined to keep us here till the Nine Corellian Hells freeze over.”

It was another half-hour of slow, frustrating work before Tal cried, “Got it!” and sat up so fast she hit her helmet on the bottom of the ship.

“What?” Vhetin said, looking over the side of his ship.

“Ah... damn,” Tracyn cursed as she clambered more carefully from beneath _Void,_ adjusting her shin-length black shoulder cape.

“Status lights are green across the board and the oxygen filter is running at full efficiency,” she said, brushing snow from her armor.

“Good.” Vhetin slid a bulkhead panel across the tangled wires and circuit boards of Electro-quadrant Eighteen and stood on top of his ship. He shook snow from his shoulders before simply stepping off the side of his ship. He fell some six and a half meters to the ground - an act that would break a normal being’s legs - before landing in the snow and bending his knees to absorb most of the impact. He grunted as he straightened and clapped snow from his gloves.

“Well,” he said as he held out a hand to Tracyn, “thanks for the help, Tal. I appreciate it.”

The woman shook his hand and said, “Don’t mention it. I’ll send you my service bill in the morning.”

He chuckled as she stepped past, heading toward the city. At the door to the interior of the spaceport she paused, hand hovering near the door controls. She half-turned back to him and said, “Think about what I’ve said, Vhetin. A partnership only works if both hunters trust each other as equals.”

He nodded. “I will. I’m thankful for the advice.”

“You should be. It’s one of the few things that I offer for free,” Tracyn replied before stepping into the spaceport and disappearing from view.

He stared at the spot where she had disappeared for a long time before turning back to his ship and patting a bulkhead softly. His gaze lingered on Jay’s sleek silver-black starfighter, _Vengeance_ , docked a few meters away.

 _Tracyn is right,_ he finally admitted. _I need to trust Jay_ _more than I am now._

He turned back to the spaceport, stepping a few feet inside where it was warmer and sitting on a nearby waiting bench. He stared at the reflective tiled floor distractedly before adding, _but that doesn_ _’t mean I have to tell her everything. Not yet._

_Maybe not ever._

_~~~~~~~~_

**One half-hour later**

“Vhetin? You awake?”

Vhetin felt a hand gently shaking his shoulder and he started awake, rising suddenly from the bench and reaching for his lightsaber hilt.

“Whoa, big guy,” said a familiar female voice. “Calm down. It’s me.”

Vhetin blinked sleep from his eyes, shaking his head to clear it. His blurry vision slowly came into focus, and he relaxed.

“Oh,” he sighed, sitting back down again with a sigh. “Jay.”

“Hello yourself,” she said with a half-smile. “You look tired. And you’re in full armor, so that’s hard to pull off.”

“The Battle Circle took a lot out of me,” he admitted. “Plus the close call with my helmet...”

“Yeah, I saw that,” she said, grimacing sympathetically. “But it didn’t look like there was any... permanent damage. You seem to have luck on your side when it comes to hiding your face.”

 _You don_ _’t know how right you are,_ he thought. He shook his head and said, “So what can I do for you?”

Her eyes gleamed with excitement as she said, “Well, I’ve got one.”

“Come again?”

“A bounty,” she explained. “I found someone with a very interesting proposition that you’re going to want to hear.”

He sat up straighter, immediately interested. She was bringing a bounty to him? That wasn’t normal.

“I’m listening,” he said.

She gestured behind her and a Mandalorian in tri-colored purple-red-black armor stepped forward. It didn't take long to size the guy up. He was wearing battered full-body armor underneath what looked like a simple travel robe. He was carrying a specially modified DC-15 blaster rifle favored by Clone Wars-era military troopers and, if Vhetin saw it right, two lightsaber hilts.

Vhetin had to admit, he was impressed. Anyone who had the guts to carry a _kad'au_ on his belt on Mandalore was someone to be taken seriously. Most _vode_ barely tolerated Vhetin carrying around his saber-staff, and that was only because he had protested time and again that he had absolutely no ties of any kind to the Jedi.

This guy was obviously a tough customer, a serious _ori'beskaryc_. This was someone who deserved to be taken seriously. Vhetin slowly stood and shook the man's hand, saying, "I don't think we've met."

He shook his helmeted head. "We haven't. My name is Corey Black."

"Corey Black," Vhetin said, narrowing his eyes in thought. "Hm, I've heard of you. Gotab speaks very highly of you."

Corey chuckled and said, "The old _shabuir_. He makes it a point of personal pride to never forget the guys who beat him in a lightsaber duel. I hear you had some bad luck in the Battle Circle against him this afternoon."

Vhetin frowned. "Yeah, well... that's beside the point. What's this bounty Jay's talking about?"

Black sighed and said, "We should go somewhere more private. We don't want other _Mando'ade_ overhearing what I have to say."

Vhetin glanced at Jay, then stood and gestured for Corey to step outside into _Void_ and _Vengeance_ 's port area. As the Mandalorian stepped outside, Vhetin murmured, "What kind of contract is this?"

Jay shrugged, frowning curiously. "I don't know. All he told me was that he had a contract for us and that he needed to talk to you. Why?"

He shrugged as they stepped outside, saying, "I don't know. There's something in his tone, something that makes me think that we’re not going to like what he has to say.”

 Corey was walking slowly around the port, staring at the ships docked there. He put a gloved hand against _Void_ 's bulkhead, much like Vhetin had done earlier, and said, "I've never seen a ship like this. What model is it?"

"An Imperial prototype," Vhetin said. "An Abodel Z-Three-Ninety stealth ship."

"Interesting..." Corey murmured. "Where did you get it?"

"I... procured it from Imperial forces," Vhetin said. "What exactly do you want?"

But Corey was silent, staring at the bulkhead distractedly. Eventually he turned to Vhetin and Jay and said, "I know I’m not exactly favorable with Prince Xizor to begin with, but you guys are pretty high up on his list of trustworthy hunters. I couldn’t think of anyone else to go to.”

"Is that why you need us?" Jay asked, glancing at Vhetin for a moment before looking at Corey again. "Do you need backup for a mission?"

"No," the Mandalorian chuckled. "I've actually been ordered off the case. I‘m offering you two an opportunity to take this contract before any other hunters get wind of it."

"Who are you working for?" Vhetin asked, cutting straight to the point. He got the feeling that Corey was skirting around whatever it was that was eating at him.

"Like I said, Prince Xizor," Corey said, the first straight answer he'd given so far.

Vhetin sighed. With Xizor, there were always complications. As untrustworthy as they were, most other crime lords were simpler in the assignments given to their bounty hunters. Xizor, though... Xizor had _plans_ , and that had proven time and again to interfere with a bounty hunter's ability to fulfill his orders.

"Before you even start talking," Vhetin said, "I have a few rules as to what I'm willing — or unwilling — to look into."

"Shoot," Corey said, folding his gauntleted arms across his chest.

"One," Vhetin said, counting off on his fingers, "I won't touch political assassinations."

"Not a problem."

"Two, I won't act as bodyguard for illegal activities: drug deals, illicit cargo shipments, et cetera. I'm not against that kind of thing, but I've been tossed in over my head because of stuff like that too times for my taste."

"If you'd been in my shoes two weeks ago," Corey said, "we might have had a problem. Now, not so much."

"And three," Vhetin said, "I'm not making any promises that I'll accept your proposal. I'm agreeing to listen to your proposition, nothing more."

Corey chuckled and turned to Jay. "Is he always this blunt?"

"All the time," Jay replied with an exasperated grin.

Vhetin nodded, satisfied, and said, "So go ahead and start talking."

"Okay," Corey sighed. "This is going to take some explaining before I start, but it's all important, I promise.

"Two weeks ago," he began, "I was hired by Prince Xizor to work as part of sentry duty on one of his supply depots on Telos. When I got there, I did a routine inspection and — surprise, surprise — found that all his current guards were a bunch of worthless _di_ _’kut_ ’ _e_ who probably couldn't manage to shoot a guy if he was dancing around in front of them with a bulls-eye painted on his chest.

"When I asked what exactly I was guarding it from, I was just told that I was to keep security around the post as tight as possible. So, naturally, I told Xizor that I would take the job if he hired on fifteen Mandalorians that I hand-picked to work with me."

"I vaguely remember hearing about that on the local HoloNews," Jay murmured, nodding. "It was the biggest mass-hiring of Mandalorians since the last deployment of the supercommando army."

“And they’ve all been ordered off the case?” Vhetin asked. Shysa would have a fit. A large group of Mandos like that being fired at once... not very good for the reputation of _Mando_ _’ade_ at large.

Corey shook his head, his voice sad as he murmured, “They’re all dead.”

Suddenly, everything else ceased to matter. There was silence in the docking area save for the distant sounds of the spaceport. Jay glanced between the two Mandalorians, unable to understand the gravity of the situation because they were both wearing expressionless helmets.

But behind his facemask, Vhetin’s gaze was drawn down in a furious scowl, and he clenched his hands into fists. A fiery rage had risen inside him, making everything else insignificant in comparison to the information he’d just been given.

“Who?” he growled.

“Ruusaan. Paak. Ijaat. Alii'gai. And a few others who were hired from Dupaak down around the equator.”

Vhetin stared at the ground, suddenly out of breath. He clenched his fists, wishing he had a weapon in them. Part of his mind whispered, _calm down. Rage like this... it_ _’ll get you into trouble. You need to stay objective, stay focused._

But he didn’t listen to his common sense. He looked up at Corey and said, “I’ll take the job. Tell me everything.”

~~~~~~~~

**Grand Palace of Jabba the Hutt, Tatooine**

The two monstrous Gammorean guards standing near the entrance to Jabba’s audience chamber lumbered forward and crossed their vibro-axes in an X in front of him, denying the bounty hunter access.

He didn’t blink an eye in worry, instead raising a gauntleted arm and saying, “Your master is expecting me. Stand aside.”

The Gammoreans glanced at each other, grunted and gibbered for a moment, then stood back, allowing him through to the dark, dingy audience chamber beyond.

No sooner had he crossed the threshold than he heard a deep, rumbling _ho ho ho_ that was by now a familiar sound to him. His helmet’s HUD automatically switched to low-light mode, picking out more than twenty different figures within, all dominated by a large slug-like figure that was the lord of the palace.

He stepped in front the lavishly-decorated duracrete slab that served as Jabba the Hutt’s throne, pointedly standing a half-meter away from the secret trapdoor that led down into the execution pit below. He rested his arms over his blaster carbine, the closest to a casual stance he could comfortably allow himself, and said, “You called me?”

“ _Yes_ ,” the grotesquely fat slug rumbled in Huttese, his narrow, reptilian eyes narrowing in satisfaction, “ _though I am displeased by your... less-than-enthusiastic return from Ord Cestus. I thought you claimed that your ship was the fastest in the galaxy._ ”

“My ship is working fine. I was tying up loose ends,” the bounty hunter said, shrugging. “I don’t stop contracts mid-way, even for the likes of you, Jabba.”

Jabba chuckled again, that deep _ho ho ho_ that was feared all across Tatooine. He settled his weak, tiny arms across his bloated belly and belched comfortably. “ _Of course, of course._ ”

“Mind getting to the point?” the bounty hunter asked, shifting his balance impatiently. “I’m a busy man. You are not my only employer.”

“ _Straight to business_ ,” Jabba rumbled. “ _I like that. Very well: I just received word from my spies in Black Sun that Prince Xizor has posted a rather large bounty on the head of a mysterious being rampaging through the Telosian Plains. He_ _’s offering a substantial amount of money for this being dead or alive, as it has caused him much aggravation over the past few months._ ”

“Specify _substantial_ ,” the bounty hunter said, raising an eyebrow skeptically and staring at the Hutt . “I need numbers.”

“ _Twenty-five thousand credits alive_ ,” Jabba said, licking his lips with a slimy purple tongue. “ _Fifteen dead_.”

The bounty hunter paused. Business had been slow in the past few months. Twenty-five thousand would go a long way right about now.

He looked back at the Hutt and said, “Who is the target?”

“ _Ah_ ,” Jabba chuckled, “ _that is part of the deal. Not only must you capture this being, but you must also find him first. Xizor has no clue as to the identity of this creature._ ”

Great. That was sure to complicate things. Without an identity to start with, the first few days of investigation would be spent just trying to find a name, let alone a location. And such inquiry would surely alert this mystery being as to the presence of a bounty hunter. Still, there were ways around that...

He shrugged and said, “Fine. I’ll take the job. But what’s your angle, Jabba?”

Jabba narrowed his yellow eyes, this time in suspicion. “ _I don_ _’t believe that to be any of your concern._ ”

“On the contrary,” he shot back, “if you’re planning to have this guy shot as soon as I bring him here, it’s very much my concern. Do you have any kind of personal beef with this guy?”

“ _Don_ _’t be ridiculous_ ,” Jabba said. “ _I am just as mystified as to his identity as Prince Xizor is. But if one of my contracted bounty hunters were the one to solve his Telos problem, he would owe me. And favors among those like Xizor and I usually turn out to be... very lucrative given time._ ”

Of course. Jabba was using this as a chance to put a leash on Xizor and his organization. Typical.

He bowed his head slightly and said, “I’ll contact one of your majordomos once I have the bounty.”

And with that, he turned and strode back to the door, ignoring the whispers running through the chamber, ignoring the fearful glances cast his way. He was used to it by now. Being the number one bounty hunter in the galaxy made one feared and respected. Not many beings had the guts to even look him in the eye, let alone speak of him in anything more than a hushed whisper.

Jabba reached into a bubbling bowl of morsels at his elbow and popped a squealing reptilian creature into his gaping maw. He chewed for a moment, then swallowed and said, “ _Oh, and one more thing._ ”

The bounty hunter half-turned at the door as Jabba stirred the contents of the pot near his arm. In an almost casual voice, he said, “ _If Prince Xizor happens to send any of his own bounty hunters to deal with the problem... make sure to deal with them, would you? There will be a bonus if you are able to rid Xizor of any of his trusted servants._ ”

The light from the hall outside glinted off the T-slit visor of the bounty hunter’s battered Mandalorian battle helmet. He stared at Jabba for a moment, then murmured, “Why would I do that? If Xizor does send his own hunters, they’ll lead me right to this assassin.“

He turned and strode out the room with the last words of, “And if that’s the case, they’re no good to me dead.”

Two minutes later, his ship lifted off from the landing pad outside the palace, heading for orbit. Not wanting to draw an unnecessary Imperial conflict down on his head, he activated the ship’s comm to check in for hyperspace clearance with the local space station in orbit.

“This is freelance transport _Slave One_ ,” he said into the comm. “Requesting hyperspace clearance, sector H-two-one-eight-zero.”

“Granted, _Slave One_ ,” came the Imperial officer’s response.

Boba Fett transferred controls to the ship’s navicomputer. As soon as the computer toned that it had the coordinates, he pushed forward a lever and shot into hyperspace, heading for Telos.


	4. Funeral Rites

**Orbital Space, Telos IV**

The sky around Telos was swarming with ships of all makes and models, darting this way and that through space like insects in the jungle. As she watched, Jay saw Imperial ships, pirate cruisers, and simple merchant ships, all flying together.

It wasn't surprising; Telos was neutral space, though it was declared to be under Imperial rule. All manner of beings from all walks of life could seek asylum on the planet's surface due to the seemingly endless restoration efforts being undertaken by herds of Ithorian builders.

Jay let the navicomputer take control of the ship for a moment while she perused the HoloNet databanks for information on the planet. She rubbed her chin absently as she read.

It was common knowledge that during the Mandalorian Wars, the ancient Sith army had bombarded the surface of the planet to molten slag, killing billions in the process. After the attack, the then-Chancellor of the Galactic Republic had granted funding to the Telosian Restoration Project. The Ithorian council in charge of the project had promised to rebuild the planet's surface through a combination of planetary terraforming and the cloning of local flora and fauna, and it had been hailed as one of the greatest moves toward the lasting reconstruction of the crumbling Republic.

In the thousands of years since the Wars, however, the patriotic enthusiasm for the project had faded, and the funding had faded with it. The Restoration Project had all but ground to a halt, leaving almost a quarter of the planet's surface nothing but a labyrinthine mass of complex biodegradable construction platforms and terraforming plants.

If there was a better hiding place in the sector for a homicidal barve like the one she and Vhetin were supposed to be hunting, she couldn't think of one. If their guy was hiding somewhere in the still-under-construction areas of the planet, it was going to be a nightmare hunting him down.

She glanced up as two TIE fighters screamed over the cockpit of her fighter. She watched the angular Imperial fighters swoop through space for a moment before opening a comm channel to _Void_.

"You could clear up a few questions for me," she said, "and I wouldn't even be irritated."

"Ask away," her partner replied. "But if you’re trying to trick me into talking about my time with the ICF again... well, let’s just say I’m not giving any guarantees."

Jay smiled a bit, then said, "First of all, who — or what — do you think this guy is? If he was able to kill a fifteen-man strike force with little more than his bare hands, what hope do we have subduing him?"

"I can't honestly answer that. Corey said the thing was reptilian with large teeth, so my first guess would be maybe a Trandoshan Elite, maybe a Noghri. Hell, maybe an extinct Tarentatek for all I know. Anything is possible."

"None of those options sound overly appealing."

There was a quiet rasp over the comm that could have been Vhetin laughing. "Don't blame me, Jay. You brought this contract to me for once."

“So that basically means that whatever happens here is my fault?”

“Basically.”

She chuckled and said, “In that case, I can pin everything that happened on Coruscant, Tatooine, and Mon Calamari on _your_ head.”

“Be my guest,” he said, “as long as you stay focused on the job at hand.”

 _Void_ swooped into her field of vision, heading for the planet’s surface. There was a pause over the comm, then Vhetin said, “So... where do you think we should start?”

“Me?” she echoed. “Why ask me?”

“You’re not going to learn anything by shadowing me,” he said. “And this is your contract, so I’m asking you: where do we begin?”

Jay frowned. Something was different about Vhetin this time. In previous days, he had been much more introverted; he’d never tried to suppress her opinion, but at the same time had never asked for it either. And now he was deliberately asking what she thought?

“Is there something wrong?” she asked, narrowing her eyes and staring at _Void_ as the ship headed into the upper atmosphere. “Did you and Brianna get in another fight?”

“No,” he replied. “I’m just genuinely interested in what you think we should do.”

“But I’m the _rookie_ ,” she reminded him. “I’m not really qualified to be taking charge here.”

“I don’t care,” he said. “You heard Corey; we’re on-site before any other hunters even get wind of the bounty here. We have some time on our hands, so I’m turning it into a learning experience.”

 _That makes sense... I guess_ , she thought. She frowned thoughtfully, increasing the throttle slightly to give _Vengeance_ enough power to break through the upper atmosphere. Outside the cockpit, space heated to a dull orange glow.

“Okay,” she finally said. “We should start by checking out the crime scene. Hook up with whatever Black Sun thugs pass as law enforcement around Xizor’s supply depots and see what info we can dig up on this mystery attacker.”

“Good,” Vhetin said. “Then what?”

“It depends on what we find out,” she replied. “If we get a name, we search that first. If we get a location, we go after that first. If can’t find anything that helpful - which will probably be the case - then we investigate some more. Check out local outposts, see if there‘s any suspicious activity.”

Vhetin’s end of the comm was silent for the rest of the trip down. Jay decided to take that as a sign of approval.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

For once, there was someone to meet them when the two ships settled down on the landing pad of a land sector close to the reconstruction area. Two beings - a bored-looking human female and a Weequay with an angry expression - were standing on the pad, squinting against the downdraft thrown up by the bounty hunter’s ships as they came in for a landing.

Moments later, as Vhetin strode down the exit ramp of his ship, he took a cursory glance around, taking in the area. He saw Jay pop the canopy of her ship and swing up and out of the cockpit. She readjusted her pistol on her hip, then set off in the direction of the two beings waiting for them. He nodded to her as they walked.

It was a bright, warm summer day on Telos, an almost jarring change from the cold winter they’d left on Mandalore. The cloudless blue sky was free of any other starships or reconstruction vehicles, and his helmet’s audio receptors strained to pick up any sound but the chatter of local wildlife. Apart from a crowded-looking mass of tents and short-term duraplast buildings near the landing pad, the area looked deserted.

From what he could tell, the area where they had landed was near some kind of construction camp. A small number of beings were walking back and forth through the uneven roads created by the makeshift buildings, some carrying rolls of flimsiplast under their arms, some carrying heavy-looking tools. Vhetin could see construction cranes and mover trucks working in the distance, their repulsor engines kicking up clouds of dust that rose into the sky like an approaching Tatooine dust storm.

The woman and the Weequay stepped up to the two bounty hunters as they approached.

"Sir... Ma'am," the woman said, nodding to each of them. "Prince Xizor is glad you were able to make it here in such short notice."

Jay nodded back. "We're here to help. Has there been any progress since the bounty was posted?”

“No,” grunted the Weequay. “All that we know was posted on the bounty info sheet.”

“What about new attacks?” Vhetin asked. “It’s been two weeks since the bounty was posted. What’s happened since then?”

“Uneasy silence,” the woman said. “We’ve posted double guards on the last few depots, but there’s been no sign of the creature.”

Jay nodded thoughtfully. She glanced at Vhetin, then turned to the woman and asked, “Where's the newest attack site? We’d like to inspect what’s left of it if that’s okay."

The woman gestured for Jay to follow. "I'll show you. It's only a few minutes away by speeder."

As Jay followed the woman towards a dull orange speeder near one end of the landing pad, Vhetin hesitated.

"Yeah...” he said slowly. “I'll catch up with you in a while. I've got something to take care of."

Jay stopped and half-turned back to him, frowning. "What? Where are you going?"

"I'm heading back into orbit," he explained. "Anglebay medical station."

"The casualties?" Jay said with a sympathetic look. When he nodded silently and she said, "Okay. I'll check out the depot and comm back what I find."

Vhetin turned to the Weequay and said, "Lead the way."

The leathery-faced alien grunted, "Fine,” and he was led to a space-capable freighter painted dull orange like the speeder. Vhetin climbed inside and strapped in, not speaking a word the entire time. It wasn’t that uncomfortable, since the Weequay didn’t offer to start any conversation either. Vhetin liked beings like that.

It was only a few minutes' flight to the orbital medical station, a circular collection of medical bays large enough to be able to dock with Star Destroyers. It had been state-of-the-art during the Clone Wars, but now it was beginning to lag into antiquity. The outside of the station was marred with carbon scoring and burns from the engine wash of over thirty years of passing starships, and there were several pressure hatches in great need of replacement. The transparisteel windows were foggy and dirty, and several of them were gone, replaced by pressure doors.

The ship glided into one of the docking bays before setting down near an emergency vehicle with flashing red-white lights. The Weequay shut down power to the engine and growled, "Coroner's office is in Medbay Thirteen-bee. You've got ten minutes."

"Fifteen," Vhetin countered.

"Twelve."

" _Fifteen_." His tone left no capacity for argument.

The Weequay stared at him for a moment, then his mouth twitched down in a scowl and he grunted, "Fine. Fifteen minutes."

Vhetin set off at a jog toward the specified medbay, his mind wandering back to his conversation with Corey Black back on Mandalore.

" _How many?_ " he'd asked.

" _Fifteen_ vode _,"_ Corey had said. " _Ripped to kriffing pieces._ "

Jay's lip had curled in disgust. " _What in hell kind of guy would be able to rip a Mandalorian in full battle armor in half?_ "

" _That's what I'm telling you,_ " Corey had said. " _I have no idea what it was._ "He'd turned to Vhetin and said, " _Vhetin... they carted me away to meet with Xizor before I could properly lay them to rest. Someone needs to get up there and finish the job_."

Yes, like so many other aspects of his life, Vhetin had his reasons for accepting this contract. Under normal circumstances, an operation like this had too many unknown factors for Vhetin to even give it a cursory glance. It was just common sense; when the employer couldn't supply a name, a location, a gender, or even a _species_ of the bounty, it was likely that the mission would be dangerous or even fatal for all involved.

But these weren't just random thugs that had been killed. They were Mandalorians, _Mando'ade._   And if Vhetin didn't do everything he could to bring their murderer to justice, then the entire concept of _vode an_ didn't mean a damn thing.

He was glad that Jay understood his need to see the casualties. It gnawed at him that once again he was withholding information from his partner, directly going against the advice Tal Tracyn had offered him. But there would be time for explanation later, after the ancient ceremonial rituals had been dealt with.

Vhetin was almost forced to snort in amusement at the word _ritual_. There was hardly any fancy ceremonies involved with Mandalorian funerals. A simple remembrance chant was all that was needed for a _Mando_ spirit to live on for eternity, granted that the chant was repeated daily by all who remembered the deceased.

However, for all the concision of the ceremony, the fate awaiting a Mando who was not treated with the service was worse than death or damnation; being eternally forgotten, lost in the endless mass of souls that passed from the world of the living each passing day. It was enough to make any proud Mandalorian shudder in fear.

Mandalorians weren't much for popularity or representation in the galaxy, not since the days of the Old Republic. But they had always set themselves apart from the foreigners, the non-Mandos, the _aruetiise_. And to not only be forgotten by one's brothers and sisters, but to be lumped in with _them_ was feared enough in _Mando_ culture to warrant a word of its own:

 _Dar'manda_. The state of being 'no longer Mandalorian,' one who has lost his heritage and therefore his soul. There was no worse fate in Mandalorian society, and no greater punishment for those exiled by their brothers and sisters.

Still, he paused at the door to the coroner‘s office, staring at the old, scuffed durasteel. A heavy dread had settled on his heart.

Beyond this door were fifteen fallen warriors, brothers and sisters in spirit if not in blood. More than that, several of them had been associates of his; not friends but close enough for him to mourn their passing.

Did he have the strength needed to put them to rest? To remain objective and come at this hunt with the same cool, calculating precision that guaranteed success?

 _Yes_ , he instantly thought. He didn’t have the option _not_ to. Squeamishness was unbecoming of a Mandalorian, and these _vode_ deserved the respect of a proper funeral.

He keyed open the door and stepped into the coroner’s office.

His gaze was instantly drawn to the fifteen bodies laid out on the durasteel tables inside, covered by white cloth sheets so only the ghostly silhouettes of their bodies could be seen. They stood out against the drab durasteel gray of the walls and floor, drawing all attention to them.

The coroner - a thin, pale human male wearing thick observation goggles - looked up and squinted at him. He seemed unsurprised to see a man in Mandalorian armor step into the room, but he still raised his eyebrows and said, “Can I help you, sir?”

“Get out,” Vhetin murmured, staring at the bodies with a heart that had turned to ice.

“You don’t have the authority to-”

“Out,” he warned. “ _Now_!”

The man jumped and scurried out of the room. The door slammed shut as he left, and Vhetin slid the large locking bar down, sealing himself inside the room. He didn’t want to be interrupted.

A cursory examination showed that the coroner had already performed an autopsy on all fifteen Mandalorians. It wasn’t normal for funeral rites to be performed post-autopsy, but it didn’t matter enough to cause Vhetin alarm.

 _Besides, the coroner_ _’s notes may shed some light on what did this_ , he thought as he stepped up to the first body, a man. The toe tag identified it as Paak Baarpir. Vhetin narrowed his eyes as he pulled back the white cloth covering the man’s face. He stared into the man’s dark-skinned face, regarding the features: short black hair, a wide, flat nose, and a long scar down the left cheek.

Vhetin had known this man. They had sparred together, both of them training under Gotab the swordmaster when they had still been teenagers. Paak had been a Mandalorian convert like Vhetin; he had run away from his home on Coruscant and made his way to Mandalore to escape from his abusive parents. He had been as tough as any true-born Mandalorian, and had been given his adopted name of Paak Baarpir - which roughly translated to ‘salty sweat’ - because he had never backed down from a hard day’s work, and that was rare among most city-born _aruetiise_.

Now he was still and unmoving, his throat a torn-open mass of gore and bloodstains. Vhetin stared at the fatal wound, feeling a fiery rage build up inside him at the sight of this brutally murdered warrior, ripped open as if he‘d been mauled by an animal. He quickly pushed the emotion away, however, and focused on the task at hand.

He grasped the sides of his helmet and pulled it off his head, the suit seal popping with a loud _hiss_ of escaping air, and set it on a nearby table. He then pulled off his right glove and placed his hand on Paak’s cold forehead. With his other hand, he activated the coroner’s recording of the autopsy.

He only half-listened to the recording as he closed his eyes and whispered, “ _Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc. Ni partayli, gar darasuum, ner vod_.”

Translated, this meant, “I'm still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal, my brother." It was the standard funeral rite for a fallen Mandalorian or for a loved one in general.

Once done, he pulled back his hand and gently replaced the sheet. He paused for a moment, listening to the coroner’s notes.

“ _The body shows signs of severe trauma to the esophagus, as well as deep trauma to the chest and stomach, possible evidence of talons. The cause of death is that the victim had his throat torn open with some relatively blunt instrument, possibly a stone knife or more probably - and the witness report concurs with this - carnivorous teeth. However, trauma to the area of the esophagus is too extensive to attempt to reconstruct the size or shape of the tooth._ ”

Vhetin had heard enough. He switched off the recorder and moved on, patting Paak’s shoulder as he passed and murmuring, “Rest now, _vod_. You’ve earned it.”

Carnivorous teeth. That ruled out any of the insect-eating reptilioid species on Vhetin’s list. It wasn’t much help, but it narrowed down the list of possible culprits and that was exactly what he needed now.

The next subject was a painfully familiar face. Vhetin didn’t need to read the toe tag to know the name of the Mandalorian woman on the table in front of him: Ijaat Valetia.

She was short and of slight build, but that had never dampened her spirits or her resolve. She had short brown hair that was intermittently streaked with black or a dark red dye, and had a smooth, pretty face that made many think she, “lacked the strength of a true _Mando_ _’ad_.” She had proven them wrong time and time again with her almost spotless bounty hunting record.

Vhetin and Ijaat had been good friends during the first few years he’d spent on Mandalore; they had trained as hunters together under the tutelage of Ordo Skirata for a year. He’d been told numerous times that Ijaat had developed a _kar'taylir darasuum_ _’ika_ or ‘little love’ - something akin to what _aruetiise_ called a ‘crush’ - on him during their training, but Vhetin had never seen such a thing in the woman. Some two years after he’d come to Mandalore, Brianna had spoken to Ijaat about her new relationship with Vhetin, and he and Ijaat hadn’t spoken since. He’d heard a few years later that she’d gotten married and had a baby daughter, but he had never gotten around to speaking with her again.

 _And now that chance is gone forever_ , he thought as he shook his head.

He placed his hand on her forehead and repeated the funeral rites as he listened to the coroner’s notes.

“ _The victim_ ,” said the coroner’s thin, reedy voice, “ _one Ijaat Valetia, was shot repeatedly at close range with a large-bore projectile weapon, possibly a BlasTech T-34P pistol._ _”_

 _A T-34P?_ Vhetin thought, frowning as he replaced the sheet. _That_ _’s a portable_ cannon _, not a pistol. So whatever was using it is too oversized to use conventional projectile weapons. That rules out your everyday Trandoshan._

“Rest easy,” he whispered to Ijaat as he moved on. “You’ll be remembered.”

The next body was Ruusan Kotep. She was by far in the worst shape of any of the other _kyr'ade._ Just the sight of the sheet, which was stained scarlet with old bloodstains, and the way it draped to the table at her neck because of her missing head was enough to make Vhetin cringe in a mixture of revulsion and pity. No warrior deserved a fate like this, and especially not someone like Ruusaan.

Vhetin hadn’t known Ruusaan well, but had worked with her during supercommando deployments on several occasions. He knew that she had left her comfortable upper-class life on Cato Nemoidia behind in favor of the hard, rural life of a _Mando_ _’ad_ and a consulting engineer for MandalMotors. She had never explained why, but she had been determined to live up to the godlike image with which she saw her fellow Mandalorians. She had never backed away from any assignment, no matter how difficult or dangerous, and had been well-liked in Keldabe and the surrounding areas. Hell, even the _Imperials_ had enjoyed her presence. She had been intelligent, witty, beautiful, and had always known exactly what to say to ease any tension with anyone. Tobbi Dalla, one of the crankiest Mandalorians in Keldabe, had called her “the daughter I’ve never gotten around to adopting.”

“ _The cause of death with this subject seems to be self-apparent,_ ” said the cororner’s recorded voice. “ _Pre-mortem removal of the head, most likely due to extremely powerful blunt-force trauma by a large hand or paw. Without the subject_ _’s head, however, further analysis is impossible_.”

The rest of the Mandalorians weren’t familiar faces, and it wasn’t long before Vhetin had completed the funeral rites for all fifteen fallen warriors. He then moved on to a series of lockers along one wall labeled _Personal Effects._

The storage containers were locked, of course, but Vhetin just bashed an armored elbow against each of the locks and the locker doors swung smoothly open.

Resting within each locker was a customized set of Mandalorian armor, belonging to each of the dead _vode_. Vhetin rifled through them, searching for a single armor plate in particular. He pulled out the left chestplate from each suit. Pulling a small vibroblade from his belt, he pried off the small rectangular armor tab mounted on the upper left corner of each chestplate, each of them glowing with a classification number that was registered to every Mandalorian when they bought their armor from MandalMotors workshops; the simple tabs, when inserted into a datapad, contained data about the Mando’s name, vital information, and usually a picture. It was like a militia dog tag for _Mando_ _’ade_.

Once he returned to Mandalore, Vhetin would return these tabs to the families of each of the fallen. It was normally custom for a Mando to wear an armor plate from a lost loved one, but he didn’t have time or room enough to gather up each full suit and bring it back with him. The tabs would have to do.

All the while, the coroner's reports continued.

“ _Given compiled data,_ ” came the recorded voice, “ _it can be reasonably hypothesized that the culprit is of..._ ”

The recording was suddenly drowned out in a wash of static. Vhetin stopped, slowly turning back to the recording. It struggled through garbled vocals for a moment before clearing and continuing," _I will make a report to the local law enforcement officers regarding... -ith the large population of... -ill be sure to find an identity in time. In the meanwhile, what little DNA evidence that can be found will continue to be tested, though..._ ”

The rest of the recording faded into white noise. Vhetin frowned, stepped up to the speaker box and slapped the side. He rewound the recording and played it again. The static was still there, interfering with the recording at the exact same places.

Vhetin frowned, a slight flutter of adrenaline passing through his system. _If the static is still there, that means it_ _’s not just an anomaly. Someone tampered with the recording._

But who? The coroner? A Black Sun official? Who would want to cover up the coroner’s notes on the identity of the attacker?

A sudden loud pounding on the door brought Vhetin back to the present. He quickly grabbed his helmet and glove from the table, replacing them before opening the door. The coroner was standing in front of him, panting and furious.

“Of all the nerve!” the skinny man snapped, brushing past him. He picked up a pair of rubber gloves and snapped them over his hands.

“Will you Mandalorians ever let me get back to my work?” he asked. “While I understand the camaraderie that runs through your society, there is a point that-”

“Wait,” Vhetin interrupted. “You said ‘ _Mandalorians_ ’. There was someone here before me?”

“Of course,” the coroner replied huffily. “And he was much more polite than you are. Quieter, maybe, but much more-”

“When?”

The coroner glared at him, then sighed dramatically and said, “I don’t know... an hour? Two?”

“What did he look like?” Vhetin demanded.

The coroner glared at him and said, “Must I be interrogated like this?”

“What did he _look like_?”

“Fine,” the coroner said, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. “Medium height, medium build... He wore greenish armor with red trim and a shoulder cape... He had a raspy voice. Apart from that, I can’t help y-”

Before the man had finished, Vhetin was gone, heading back to the hangar bay at just under a run.

Something was very wrong here. A Mandalorian had come to the coroner already? Corey Black maybe? No, he’d said that he’d been paralyzed for two weeks, then immediately taken to Prince Xizor. And this mystery Mando had passed through one or two hours ago.

What worried Vhetin the most was that whoever this Mando was, he hadn’t retrieved the armor tabs from the fallen Mandalorian’s suits. What the hell did that mean?

Maybe Corey had told another Mando about the bounty here before coming to Vhetin and Jay? Maybe this guy was a friend, not an enemy. That didn’t sound likely, but it was possible.

He activated his helmet comlink, opening a private comm channel to Jay on the planet’s surface. It was a few moments before she answered.

“Moqena here,” she finally said.

“Jay. I‘m glad I caught you,” he said, relieved to hear her voice. Something about this mysterious Mandalorian was freaking him out. He couldn’t explain it, but his instinct told him to bug out of this contract right away.

 _I can_ _’t do that, though_ , he thought, shaking his head. _I owe it to Corey and to all those_ vode _who were murdered_.

“What’s wrong?” Jay asked.

He took a deep breath and said, “The coroner’s records have been tampered with and the coroner himself says that a Mandalorian visited the bodies one or two hours before we even got here.”

“What?” she said confusedly. “Who was it?”

“I have no clue,” he replied as he jogged for the orange freighter that had taken him here and the impatient-looking Weequay waiting nearby. He quickly filled Jay in on the details of his findings at the coroner’s office, including the clues given by the man’s recorded notes. Then he described what the coroner had said about the other Mandalorian. When he’d finished, there was a worried pause from the other end of the comm. When Jay spoke again, her voice was quiet, almost a nervous whisper.

“You don’t think Shysa dispatched a Mando to perform the funeral rites?” she asked.

“No,” he said. “I would have heard of it.”

“What about the armor? Do you know anyone who wears armor like the coroner described?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted as he stepped past the Weequay without so much as a glance and headed into the transport. “Green and red is pretty popular color scheme on Mandalore, around Keldabe in particular; It’s pretty much the standard supercommando uniform color.”

“So it could be a friendly?” Jay asked.

“Maybe. But something tells me this is something else. Something more dangerous.”

“Anything you want me to do?” she asked. “Anything to help out with this?”

“Nothing I can come up with off the top of my head,” he said. “Just... keep your eyes open, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she replied. “But you need to be careful, too. This may be another hunter masquerading as a Mando to try and get an edge on the competition.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said. “And if that’s the case, we need to be extra careful.”


	5. Mandalorian Massacre

**Black Sun Supply Depot Fifteen, Telosian Plains**

Jay signed off her end of the comm, frowning in worry. Vhetin was right; if there was another hunter on the job, that meant things just got a lot more dangerous. She was reminded of Coruscant and her first mission, the Kassh contract. They had been up against competition that time, too. And even though their competitor had become a friend after a time, Jay had no desire for a repeat of those hectic, paranoid days.

She stepped up the pace, jogging after the black-haired woman who was leading her to what was left of Supply Depot Fifteen.

“I thought you said it was only a few minutes away,” she said as she fell in step next to her guide.

The woman glanced over at Jay, then turned her bored gaze back to the rolling foothills in front of her. “It’s a few minutes ride to the Depot by speeder, yes. But we built the Depots as far into the foothills as we could to add to the security of the buildings. We didn’t want thieves to be able to drive to and from the depots with ease.”

The woman paused, then added, “Fat lot of good it did us, in retrospect.”

Jay frowned as they picked their way through a large copse of trees and boulders. “So... how far is it on foot?”

The woman pointed to a curling cloud of pale gray smoke that wafted into the sky some distance away.

“See that?” she said. “That’s the depot.”

“How long before we get there?”

“Fifteen, twenty minutes,” her guide replied. “Why? You too good to hike?”

“No,” Jay replied defensively. “It was a simple question.”

The woman chuckled darkly. “You learn fast in Black Sun that there’s no such thing as a simple question. There’s always deeper meaning, usually something bad, behind everything anyone says.”

“It’s pretty similar in the bounty hunting trade,” Jay admitted. “Never take anything at face value. There’s almost always a catch.”

The woman glanced over at Jay again, narrowing her eyes slightly as she looked at her through the corner of her eyes. “How long have you been hunting?”

“Me?” Jay asked. “Almost two months, plus six months total training. Why?”

The other woman shrugged. “Just curious.”

“I’m not going to take that at face value either,” Jay said. “Do you have something against bounty hunters?”

The woman shook her head. “Nothing in particular. They’re a valuable cog in the machine of Black Sun.”

What kind of answer was that? Jay frowned and looked at the woman closer.

Outwardly, she didn’t look all that threatening. She was a medium-height, attractive human female with green eyes and shoulder-length silky black hair pulled into a functional braid. She wore a stiff, form-fitting black jacket and had a field pistol strapped to her belt. She looked like nothing more than an average security agent, but Jay suspected that this woman was better-trained than that.

“I’m picking up a lot of sarcasm in that statement,” she decided to point out. “What’s your name?”

“Warren,” the woman replied. “Operative Warren.”

“Well Warren,” Jay said as they crested a hill and began their trek down the other side, into another small copse of rocks and trees, “why don’t you come clean with why you don’t think highly of me or my partner?”

“I wont lie and say that you guys are fun to be around,” Warren admitted. “You’re nosy as hell and that alone is enough to get on my nerves.”

She shrugged and said, “You want to know why I don’t like hunters like yourself? It’s because Black Sun has plenty of field-worthy operatives who are more than capable of investigating. But his ‘grand highness’ Xizor sees fit time and again to bring in scum like you and your bucket-head friend.”

Jay recoiled slightly, not particularly enjoying the woman’s suddenly aggressive tone. “So now you have something against Mandalorians too?”

Warren laughed darkly again. “Savages and murderers, the whole lot of ‘em. I heard they have over a hundred different words for ‘stab’.”

“Yeah,” Jay reluctantly admitted. “But they’ve also got a strict code of honor-”

“I don’t give a damn about their ‘honor’. They’ll do anything for money.”

Jay narrowed her eyes again and said, “You have experience with Mandos. Bad experience, I take it?”

Warren just shot a glare at her and fell silent. Jay sighed and gave up the conversation. If this woman had anything against Mandalorians, she would do well to confront Vhetin. Then she’d find out how wrong about them she really was.

 _Either that_ , she thought, _or she_ _’ll insult Vhetin so bad that he cuts her head off with his saber pike. I guess either way her attitude is dealt with._

Ten minutes passed, with the two hiking in silence through seemingly endless rolling hills covered in sporadic copses of trees and shrubs, but mostly overgrown with waist-high green-brown grass. Puffy white clouds floated serenely across the pale blue sky overhead, and a flock of birds made their way across the horizon in the distance. It would have been a relaxing, calming scene if not for the dust storm kicked up by the construction crews in the distance and the grisly reason Jay was heading to the outpost in the first place.

As they crested another hill, the supply depot came into sight at last. Jay stopped at the top of the hill, looking around at the depot complex spread before her.

Supply Depot Fifteen, or what was left of it, was a small collection of dark gray durasteel buildings with dark, tinted transparisteel windows. A tall razor-wire perimeter fence surrounded the entire area of maybe four hundred square feet.

“There’s a large collection of underground storage areas and tunnels beneath this complex,” Warren explained, hands on her hips.

“Doesn’t look like they’re going to be in any better shape,” Jay observed.

Most of the complex was still on fire, and one of the dark gray buildings had collapsed completely into a pile of smoldering rubble. There was smoke pouring out of several shattered windows and dried bloodstains splattered across the short grass inside the perimeter fence.

The other woman glanced at Jay again, then said, “So you gonna head down there and investigate or are you just going to stare at it?”

“Give me a minute, will you?” Jay said, scowling. She squinted at the perimeter fence and pointed at several mangled sections of fence. “What happened there?”

Warren followed the direction of Jay’s hand, then said, “That’s where the contact breached the perimeter defenses and infiltrated the compound. We’ve found three different access points.”

Jay nodded, then set off down the hill. When Warren didn’t follow, she looked over her shoulder and jerked her head toward the smoking depot.

“Well?” she asked. “Let’s go check it out.”

Warren shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot and said, “This is a restricted area. I was supposed to escort you here, but I’m not allowed down there.”

“Space your orders,” Jay said, jerking her head behind her again. “I’m going to need someone watching my back in case this mystery monster attacks again while I’m poking around.”

Warren seemed to debate with herself for a few moments before sighing and slowly following Jay down the hill.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

The bounty huntress and the Black Sun operative had no way of seeing him as he settled down onto his belly and shouldered the heavy sniper rifle. His helmet’s targeting rangefinder swung down in front of the left side of his helmet and the tiny datascreen inside displayed a message that read: _SCANNING..._

Boba Fett zoomed in on the two women, focusing on the black-clad bounty huntress in particular. He’d observed Operative Warren’s comings and goings for half a day now, and had already eliminated her as a potential lead to the target. The competition though... she could be a problem.

The huntress didn’t look overly intimidating; medium height, medium build for a female, attractive, long wavy brown hair. She had a black jacket made of a leathery material that Fett was unfamiliar with and wore shin-length combat boots. As far as armament, it looked like she had a Verpine pistol and a vibroblade discreetly sheathed down her right boot.

He sneered slightly behind his helmet as he watched the two do a quick walkaround of the entire complex.

 _Obviously a rookie,_ he thought. _No scars, no heavy armament, no trophies... nothing that would confirm any serious experience hunting._

After a few more moments, the scanner in his helmet’s rangefinder showed a _COMPLETED_ message and an Imperial file popped up in his HUD. He kept one eye on the two women while he read the file.

‘ _Jaimie_ _“Jay” Moqena‘,_ he read to himself. ‘ _Born on Nar Shadda, graduated from the Academy with good grades, turned to bounty hunting after being dishonorably discharged from the Navy_ _‘..._

He shook his head slightly. He didn’t buy this; it was the typical bounty hunting sob-story that he’d come across time and again. If anything, he would have thought that this entire file was bogus. But to insert a phony Records File into the Imperial database would take a slicer more talented than Fett had run across yet. He filed the suspicions away for later contemplation and continued reading.

‘ _Pilots a MandalMotors Skyraptor Interceptor called_ Vengeance.’ _Hmm, that_ _’s an impressive ride. Expensive, too._

_‘Suspected connections with Underworld organizations Black Sun and Bloody Dawn‘... those are some pretty tough employers. Maybe she’s more skilled than I thought._

_‘Current residence: Keldabe, Mandalore.’ Interesting..._

_‘Known to work with Mandalorian bounty hunter known as Cin Vhetin.’_

Fett stopped, blinked, then read the last line again. Once satisfied that his eyes were not playing tricks on him, he settled in behind his rifle again and chuckled quietly to himself.

 _Cin Vhetin, huh?_ he thought to himself, shaking his helmeted head in slight amusement. _Been a while since I_ _’ve heard that name. Who’d have thought that old Stripes would have it in him to take on a new partner?_

He sighted in on the woman again, watched her kneel next to one of the fence breaches and exchange a few words with Operative Warren. He narrowed his eyes and activated his helmet’s video pickup so he could send the huntress’ image to some contacts of his for some deeper investigation. He also increased his helmet’s audio receptors in order to eavesdrop on her conversation.

“Looks like something big just bashed its way through this fence,” Moqena was saying, running her fingertips carefully along the sharpened edges of the fence.

Warren nodded her head. “Yeah. Whatever this thing was, it must have been built like a tank.”

 _And armored like one_ , Fett observed as Moqena jerked her hand back, her fingers cut slightly just by her cautious observations. _Any normal being taking a run at razor wire would have been cut to pieces._

“What about this?” Moqena asked, tracing her hand along a deep footprint in the dirt. “This must be one of those tracks we heard about.”

“We took duraplast casts of all the tracks we could find,” Warren explained. “Black Sun operatives are still investigating the matter.”

“What do you think it was?” Moqena asked, still studying the tracks that littered the ground.

Warren paused and raised a single thin eyebrow. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” Moqena replied moving on a few feet and staring at a patch of dried blood on the grass. “You must have some idea what this thing was.”

“Well,” Warren said slowly, following the huntress’ progress around the complex, “Black claimed that the being was reptilian and had large teeth, but that could have been his mind playing tricks on him.”

“So you don’t believe the word of the Mandalorian witness,” Moqena said. “Big surprise there.”

“It’s not because he’s a Mandalorian,” Warren replied crossly. “It’s because no species I can think of - except maybe a Wookiee - could break through this razor wire so easily.”

“What about local creatures? Like a zakkeg or a small rancor?”

“I don’t know where you got your intel about Telos,” Warren laughed. “There’s none of either of those species here.”

“What local carnivorous species do you have?”

Warren thought for a moment, then said, “Cannoks. They’re probably dumb enough to make a go at the supply depots, but there’s never been a cannok attack this brutal before.”

“I’ve heard,” Moqena said quietly, absorbed in her work, “that Imperial scientists found that several animal species can grow more aggressive to an almost sadistic point just by watching other species.”

She stood and brushed her hands off. “And with Black Sun surrounding this area, there’s bound to be some violent activities going on. Pit fighting, speeder races, shooting competitions, you name it.”

“You’re saying that cannoks watched a pit fight and were turned into bloodthirsty monsters because of it?” Warren’s tone was openly skeptical.

“No, I’m saying that it’s possible that whoever is attacking these outposts is drawn to violence. And he’ll probably hang around anywhere there’s likely to be blood.”

She turned to Warren and said, “Can you think of any place like that?”

Warren stared at the huntress for a moment, then blinked and said, “There’s... there’s a pitfighting ring in the basement of a local cantina.”

“Where’s the town?” Moqena asked.

Warren pointed to the south. “There’s a settlement four kilometers that way,” she said. “It’s a shantytown for local construction workers. The cantina’s called the Watering Hole.”

“How do I get in to the fighting ring?” Moqena asked.

Warren hesitated again, then sighed reluctantly and said, “Ask for Rizzo; he’s the bartender.”

Moqena nodded and began to walk back in the direction they’d come. As she passed, though, Warren caught her arm and said, “They don’t let just anyone into The Pit, you know. You’ll need to either be a fighter or a sponsor. And trust me; if you set one foot into that ring, those fighters are going to rip you limb from limb.”

Moqena grinned and said, “Don’t worry. I happen to know someone who can wipe the floor with anyone those guys pit him against.”

Warren nodded. “Okay. But I’m coming with you.”

“What?” Moqena said, frowning in confusion. “I thought-”

“I’m still the Operative in charge of this problem,” Warren said. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a couple hotshot bounty hunters do all the work and take all the credit. Besides, you’ll need me to get you into the pitfighter’s arena.”

Moqena thought over this for a time, then said, “All right. We’ll see you within the hour at this Watering Hole place. Right now I need to contact my partner. He might be able to find more in here and I need to explain the situation.”

As the two women moved away from the compound in search of an area with comm reception, Fett pulled back from the top of the hill and lowered the sniper rifle.

 _The Watering Hole, huh?_ he thought to himself. _This Moqena woman has a good point; whoever this attacker is probably spends time at a place where he can let off steam through further violence. And this pitfighter_ _’s arena sounds like a good place to start looking._


	6. Gladiator

**Fifteen minutes later, speeder bus en route to Construction Outpost Twenty**

“No,” Vhetin said, shaking his helmeted head. “No. I’m a bounty hunter, not a gladiator.”

“Come on, Stripes,” Jay said. “This could be the key to tracking down our bounty.”

“I am _not_ going to jump into a ring with some brainless mass of muscles to track down a bounty that may not even be there!”

“I saw you go hand-to-hand with Gotab in the Battle Circle yesterday,” Jay said. “You’re more than skilled enough to take on any of the scum they have down there.”

“I...” Vhetin trailed off, struggling for the words. Eventually he just shook his head and said, “No. I’m not doing it.”

“What, you’d prefer _I_ went in there?”

“No,” he said quickly. Jay had next to none of the advance martial arts skills that he had learned and would undoubtedly be ripped apart if she so much as set foot in the ring. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Listen,” Jay sighed. “One of us has to play the part of the sponsor while the other one is the fighter. And a Mandalorian pit fighter is going to be a lot more believable than a young, attractive woman such as myself.”

He stared at her for a time, scowling behind his helmet’s T-slit visor, then sighed and said, “Where is this place?”

“In the basement of a local cantina,” Jay said, “called the Watering Hole.”

“Great,” he said. “That means it’s not under the control or the protection of Black Sun. And that means no-holds-barred fights.”

He crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Are you _trying_ to get me killed?”

“You took on _Durge_ in hand-to-hand combat,” Jay reminded him. “Compared to him, what can these guys possibly do?”

When he didn’t answer, she said, “It’s just to draw out any potential suspects. If we don’t see anyone overly suspicious, we pull you out, pocket our winnings, and go on our way.”

He stared at her for a long time, then sighed and relented. As much as he hated to admit it, it was a good plan.

They stood inside the cramped speeder bus in silence for a time, watching the rolling hills of Telos flash by as they headed for the end of the foothills and the beginning of the reconstruction zone. Vhetin could see the huge brownish cloud of dust and dirt from the construction cranes slowly growing closer through the battered windows of the old speeder bus.

“So...” Jay said slowly, breaking the silence. “Were you able to read anything?”

He looked over at her, cocking his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You know,” she said, shifting her feet. “Your... talent. Psychometry.”

Her discomfort in raising the subject obviously meant that she still didn’t believe in his ability to read memories and experiences from inanimate objects simply by touch. But he’d been correct when he’d predicted where the terrorist leader Jolee Uruc would attack back on Mon Calamari, so Jay was probably more willing to take his ability seriously than last time.

Still, he didn’t know exactly what she was talking about. Did she mean he should have tried to read something off the coroner’s holorecorder, to see who had deleted portions of the recording?

But she said, “Did you even try it on the dead Mandalorians? You know, try to see what killed them?”

 _What?_ He would never show such contempt for the fallen _Mando_ _’ade_ by ripping memories from their cold corpses. It would be _ori'suumyc_ , unacceptable even by a Mandalorian’s fairly flexible sense of morality. In fact, it was disrespectful to their memories by just presenting that as an option!

“Even if I had no qualms about disrespecting them in such a way,” he said, his voice sharper than he intended, “I try not to read the memories of dead bodies. It’s just a thing of mine; I don’t really want to personally experience the last moments when someone is brutally murdered.”

Jay winced, hurt by his tone, and he almost instantly regretted his words. It was a good idea on its face, and Jay hadn’t meant any disrespect by the suggestion.

Tal Tracyn’s earlier advice rose in his mind again: _Listen to your partner_ , she’d said. _Be aware of what she_ _’s feeling, what she’s thinking._ Trust _her._

He let out a long breath and quietly said, “I’m sorry Jay. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

She dismissed his apology with a wave of one hand and smiled slightly. “It’s okay, Stripes. We’re both stressed out by all of this; the unknown attacker, this other Mandalorian who’s on the contract as well. You’ve got it even worse, since you’re charged to avenge the Mandos who were murdered.”

She shrugged and quietly said, “Let’s just stay focused on what’s going on now.”

He threw glances at her out of the corner of his eye for the rest of the trip, thinking, _Trust her. Remember to treat her like the friend she is._

He shook his head slightly and thought, _Yeah. I_ _’m off to a great start._

_~~~~~~~~_

Construction Outpost Twenty was a fairly large, hastily-built town comprised of many temporary pale gray plastisteel buildings. Construction vehicles crowded the street, rumbling to and fro on their appointed tasks, loadlifter droids lumbered through the shadows carrying huge loads of construction tools and equipment, and there seemed to be an unusually large concentration of Ithorians.

Jay frowned as she, Vhetin, and Operative Warren stepped down off the rusty speeder bus and onto a street corner. They paused to let a two-story-high loadlifter droid trudge past with a series of deep computerized beeps and honks.

“What’s with all the Ithorians?” Jay asked as they set off into the city.

Warren, who was leading them to the cantina, glanced at her over her shoulder and said, “They’re Supervisors. They’re in charge of all the construction across Telos."

Jay noticed that several of the hammerhead aliens were staring at them, even pointing and muttering to each other in their baritone, gravelly voices. After a moment, she realized that the Ithorians weren't staring at all three of them; their gazes were drawn to Vhetin alone.

The Mandalorian glanced around, discomfort showing in his body language. As they walked past a gray-skinned Ithorian who all but growled at him, he cleared his throat and said, "Uh... what's up with these guys?"

Warren glanced at him unsympathetically. "Ask 'em yourself."

Vhetin stared at her for a moment, then walked on in silence. When another Ithorian rumbled indistinctly at him, he caught the alien's arm and said, "Hey, you got a problem?"

The Ithorian replied with a series of crunching grumbles and grunts that sounded distinctly like two rocks being ground together. Vhetin stared at the alien, then miraculously replied with his own series of rumbles and grunts. Jay listened for a few moments, frowning in bewilderment, then leaned close to Warren and whispered, "What are they saying?"

"The Ithorian is...expressing his dislike of Mandalorians and your buddy is arguing with him," Warren said with a smirk. "Most of the curses don't have Basic translations, but imagine a Corellian spacedock worker on a bad day."

Jay let out a whistle, raising her eyebrows. "Wow. Why don't any of you Telosians like Mandalorians?"

"The Ithorian there is doing a good job of explaining," Warren said. The hammerhead alien was gesturing angrily, rumbling and growling. Vhetin was staring at the being, occasionally growling back but mostly listening intently.

"He's saying that death and destruction have followed Mandalorians ever since the formation of their Clans," the Black Sun Operative explained. "That they're even worse than Jedi in their meddling; the only difference is that Jedi tried to preserve life, whereas Mandalorians leave nothing but a stream of collateral damage in their wake."

"I can see why they wouldn't like that," Jay admitted. "They've been working for over a thousand years to rebuild this place. I'm sure they don't want any more damage to this place."

"Got it in one," Warren replied as Vhetin stormed away from the Ithorian, which growled at him before slouching away down a side alley.

“Did you make a new friend?” Jay asked Vhetin as they set off again.

“Decidedly not,” he murmured. “I’m surprised he didn’t punch me in the faceplate.”

“Quiet,” Warren said. “We’re getting close to the Watering Hole. This place is not exactly the most friendly establishment in this sector, so keep your wits about you.”

“No problem.” Vhetin patted the pistol holstered on his hip. To avoid drawing attention to himself, he had left his lightsabers and his saber pike onboard _Void._

“You told them we were coming, right?” Jay asked the Black Sun operative. “We’re not just going to barge in there and demand a pitfighting duel.”

“I made reservations with Rizzo,” Warren said. “He made sure they entered Vhetin as a duel contender.”

“Any idea of the competition?” Vhetin asked, his expressionless gaze falling on a passing Ithorian that glared at him in return.

“Advance scouting is against the rules of the pitfighters’ ring,” Warren said with a slightly triumphant sneer. “Besides, all the fighters are locals. Construction workers, security guards, that kind of thing.”

Jay nudged Vhetin in the arm and grinned as she said, “Nothing that would cause a hardened Mandalorian bounty hunter to break a sweat.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” Vhetin said, “but we don’t even know who I’m going up against. There’s no guarantee that I’ll be able to make it past even the first round.”

“You’re too modest,” Jay said. “Again, I saw you in the Battle Circle against Gotab, and you-”

“Quiet,” Warren hissed. “We’re here.”

They had stopped in front of one of the plastisteel buildings, this one marked with the words _WATERING HOLE_ in Basic above the door. It was a remarkably pristine building, compared to some of the cantinas that Jay had already visited over the course of her bounty hunting career. The walls were an unmarked steel gray that switched suddenly to a paler shade halfway up the building. There were two stories to the cantina and very few windows. A flashing sign in one of the first-floor windows read _OPEN_.

Warren turned to Vhetin and Jay and said, “I’ll just go over this one time; Vhetin, you’re supposed to be a typical Mando thug. Don’t speak unless spoken to and try to act like a dumb brute. It shouldn’t be too hard for you.”

Vhetin clenched a single fist tightly, but otherwise didn’t react to the insult.

“Moqena,” the operative said, turning to Jay, “you’re Vhetin’s sponsor. Again, don’t speak unless spoken to, and even then don’t talk about your business. That’s the quickest way to blow your cover; no smart sponsor talks about his or her dealings outside the immediate fight.”

Jay nodded and shook a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Got it. Anything else?”

“Just... act casual,” Warren said as she pulled open the door and disappeared inside. Vhetin and Jay glanced at each other, then headed inside as well.

The inside of the cantina was just as neat and pristine as the outside. There were neatly-arranged tables and chairs and a long bar that took up an entire wall near the back. Variously-colored bottles were mounted on the wall behind the bar, and a skinny Rodian male was wiping food crumbs off the bartop.

“Rizzo!” Warren called.

The Rodian glanced up, his rubbery proboscis waving. He sniffed at Warren, then returned to wiping down the bartop. Warren stepped forward and placed her hands on the bartop right in Rizzo’s path.

“I’m here with the... interested party,” Warren said. Jay had to strain to hear the woman’s voice as she and Vhetin stepped forward.

Rizzo stared at the Black Sun operative with his large compound eyes, then said, “They have the entry fee?”

“Entry fee?” Jay said, frowning. “You didn’t say anything about an entry fee.”

Warren silenced her with a glare and a slashing motion with her hand. She turned back to Rizzo and narrowed her green eyes.

“There wasn’t any entry fee the last time I was here,” she said, her voice dangerously quiet.

“That’s because last time you brought in a rabid Wookiee,” Rizzo replied, his high-pitched, nasal voice grating on Jay’s hearing. “Do you know how much it cost me to keep local health control officers from shutting down my establishment?”

Warren stared at him for a moment, then said, “How much is the entry fee?”

“Three hundred,” the Rodian replied quickly.

The Black Sun operative turned to Jay and held out a hand. When Jay was about to protest, she interrupted, “It’s the only way you’re going to get into the basement competition. Fork the money over. In cash.”

Jay cursed and glared at the bartender as she dug in her belt-pouch for the money. She slapped three hundred-credit chips into Warren’s palm. As Warren turned back to her negotiations with the bartender, she turned to Vhetin and muttered, “You’d better win this damn fight.”

He nodded his helmeted head. “I will. And you can keep any of the winnings; I’m determined not to make a profit from beating these guys to a pulp.”

“Moral standing?” Jay guessed.

“More like focusing on business before pleasure,” Vhetin said, his gaze solely focused on the Rodian bartender.

The blank, expressionless gaze of his battle helmet apparently worked; the bartender sniffed again and said, “Fine. They can come in. What’s the name?”

Warren was about to offer Vhetin’s name for the fight roster, but Vhetin interjected, saying, “Just put down ‘The Mandalorian.’”

Warren raised an eyebrow curiously, then turned back to Rizzo and said, “You heard the Mando. Put him down.”

Rizzo nodded and tapped into a datapad that appeared from beneath the bar. He glanced at the ‘pad for a moment, then nodded his green-skinned head and said, “’Kay. Fight’s in fifteen minutes. Prep rooms are in the basement through the door behind the bar; get ready while you can.”

The three turned and headed for the door, which was flanked by two large Rodian bouncers. They stepped aside as the three approached.

“So...” Jay said as they passed the bouncers and stepped through the door into a dingy, descending stairwell, “What’s with the fake name?”

“I don’t want some ring announcer shouting out my real name for two reasons,” Vhetin explained. “One, so that any enemies I may make while I’m here won’t know who I really am-”

“Like most of the rest of the people in your life,” Jay muttered, more than loud enough to be heard.

“-and two,” he continued, “so that if our mysterious outpost attacker _is_ here, he won’t know who I am either. I’m well-known enough as a bounty hunter to draw attention in the criminal underworld. I won’t run the risk of scaring him off because he knows who I am.”

“Oh,” Jay said, nodding slowly. That made sense; he’d obviously worked out all the potential problems beforehand. But then again, Vhetin had always been one for preparation.

After only a short time they reached the bottom of the grimy stairway to see a T-junction with another bouncer at the entrance to either hall. One of the Rodians gestured to Vhetin and said, “Prep rooms are to the right. No armor is allowed in the fight.”

Jay glanced at Vhetin, hiding a smile. There was no way he was going to be able to get out of this one; he’d have to show his face now.

But the guard held out a black cloth in one hand. As Vhetin took it, she saw that it was a rough cloth facemask. She cursed under her breath at another failed opportunity as the Rodian grunted, “Wear that if you’re squeamish about your publicity.”

The Mandalorian nodded and tucked the facemask into his belt. He jerked his helmeted head at Jay as he took a step down the right hall. “Jay, come with me. I have a few things to talk to you about before the fight starts.”

“I’ll scout out the fighting ring,” Warren said, turning and heading down the left-side hall. “I’ll meet you there.”

Vhetin strode down the right hall until he came to a door that read _VACANT_. He pushed the door open and gestured for Jay to head in first.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as Vhetin glanced up and down the hall before shutting the door. He didn’t respond, instead sweeping his gaze over the sparsely-furnished room. She followed his gaze, looking around the area.

There was a locker in one corner and a tall, smudged mirror hanging on the chipped wall near the door. Apart from that, there was no other furniture in the gritty room; nothing out of the ordinary and nothing suspicious.

“What, sweeping for bugs now?” she asked as Vhetin's helmet rangefinder swung down over where his left eye would be. “Are you that paranoid?”

“I’m just taking adequate precautions,” he said, turning his back to her and sweeping his gaze over the room. “We don’t know what we’re up against.”

Before she could open her mouth to speak, he’d pulled his helmet off his head. She caught a glimpse of messy brown hair before he pulled the tight black cloth facemask over his head in place of the helmet.

But she was still granted with a slight revelation. As he turned back to her, and she got her first good look at his eyes; the facemask was cut across the eyes to allow the wearer unobstructed vision. At first glimpse she absently thought, _oh, his eyes are blue_.

Then she was unexpectedly startled into silence as he fixed her with the most intense dark blue gaze she had ever seen. It wasn’t unfriendly, but it reminded her of the powerful stare of a predatory Hawkbat.

He handed her the helmet, the severe gaze glancing away for a moment as he did. “I want you to keep an eye out on the crowd while I’m fighting,” he said as she took the helmet.

She blinked twice, staring at him. After a moment, she shook her head slightly, thinking, _Focus, Jay. You can_ _’t be thrown off track like this just because he looked at you and you could finally look back._

“You think the target is going to take a shot at you?” she finally was able to ask.

He shook his head. She could see his jaw move beneath the facemask as he said, “No. I’m worried about this other Mandalorian.”

She was surprised how different his voice sounded when it was coming straight from his mouth instead of through the crackling feedback of his helmet’s vocoder.

“We still haven’t seen any sign of him,” he continued, turning away again. “And he’s out there somewhere.”

She nodded, frowning slightly as she opened the locker in the corner and placed the helmet inside. “You know... when I was investigating what was left of Depot Fifteen I did get this feeling like I was being watched. It gave me the creeps.”

“Speaking of which,” he said, pulling his _beskar_ vambraces off his arms and handing them to her, “what did you find while you were there?”

“Not much outside what Corey told us when we first accepted the contract,” she admitted. “Reptilian footprints in the grass, razor-wire fence busted through like it was made of tin, blood everywhere.”

He winced slightly at the reminder of the Mandalorians who had been killed, then said, “Anything else?”

“Not really. The place was still smoking.”

He grunted, then pulled his armored flak vest over his head. Jay was slightly uncomfortable as he pulled the top half of his flight suit away as well, unsure whether she should turn her back or not. But her fascination and excitement at seeing even only a bit of the man beneath the armor compelled her to stay.

The first thing she noticed was that his skin was pale, probably from too much time spent in full armor. His muscles weren’t huge like those of some other Mandalorians she’d seen around Keldabe, but he had a definite athletic build due to his extremely active lifestyle.

As he stepped silently past her to place his flak vest and flight suit top inside the locker with the rest of his armor, she noticed that he had several old scars stretching across his back in jagged criss-crosses. She frowned curiously and wondered, _Those don_ _’t look like battle scars that he’s accumulated through the years. It looks like they all came from a single accident._

As he turned back to her, she was granted a last mysterious clue into the past of her partner; he had a tattoo. An intricately detailed parallel-stripe tattoo wrapped around his neck like a necklace before traveling down his left shoulder and arm. It joined in a rough U shape across the back of his hand. The multitude of curling, elegant shapes that comprised the tattoo were colored a dark greenish-black, and the lines shifted slightly as her partner clenched a fist.

 _That is_ not _a backstreet parlor job,_ she thought, frowning in curiosity. _That almost looks ceremonial. A Mandalorian ritual tattoo, maybe?_

She suddenly noticed that he was staring at her, so she forcibly tore her gaze away and stared into his deep blue eyes once more.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You seem distracted.”

She shook her head, blushing slightly at her own fascination. “Nothing. Just thinking.”

He stared at her for a half-second more before kneeling to pull off his thigh and shin plates. He placed them in the locker as well, keeping his kama fastened to his belt. He glanced at her once more before pulling a roll of black tape from one of his belt pouches and wrapping it around his hands.

“When I get into the ring, I want you to study the crowd,” he said as he worked. “See who’s taking particular interest in the fight, who seems to be trying not to pay attention. Make a mental note of everyone who leaves the ring after the fight starts.”

“And definitely keep an eye out for giant lizard aliens,” she added.

“Right,” he nodded. “Chances are that one of these guys is the _chakaar_ we’re looking for.”

“And what about you? When you step into that ring, you’ll be on your own. Do you want me or Warren to have your back?”

“No,” he said, clenching a fist and tightening the black tape across his right hand. “I don’t trust Warren and if either of you interfere it will draw more attention than we want. Just hang back and watch the crowd.”

She nodded as Vhetin stepped past her, back out into the hall. He readjusted the tight black facemask over his head, then murmured, “ _Oya_. Let’s hunt.”


	7. Oppo Tor

Two minutes later, Vhetin stood alone in the corner of another dark, dirty room, flexing his right hand in anticipation. Jay had parted company with him at the doors to the gathering area for pitfighters, wishing him luck one last time.

Since then, no one had bothered to even spare him a second glance; he was just another fighter looking to either take the gladiatorial scene by storm or just stay in the fight long enough to get paid.

“Jay, come in,” he said quietly. “You copy?”

“I’m here,” she replied in his ear. “Are you okay?”

Before entering the ring, he had discreetly placed a comlink bead in his ear, hiding it beneath his facemask. If Jay did make contact with their target, he’d need to know about it. He would be disqualified if anyone found out about the comm, but it was hidden beneath his mask, and it wasn’t like he was in the fight to win anyway.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Anyone look suspicious?”

“Nope. Just your average illegal pitfight so far. There’s this really ugly human trying to hit on Warren, but apart from that...”

He nodded slightly to himself and said, “Okay. Just be careful and keep your eyes open.”

“ _Me_ be careful?” she said, sounding amused. “You’re the one who’s going fist-to-fist with some of the toughest pitfighters on Telos. Kark me; _you_ need to be careful. Moqena out.”

Vhetin powered down his end of the comm as one of the fighters slowly made his way through the small crowd in his direction.

The fighter was a large, chubby human male who nonetheless sported arms as thick as Vhetin’s neck. He had a dirty-looking black tattoo down his right arm and he had a bracelet of chains over each wrist. He took a step toward Vhetin and poked him in the chest with a thick finger.

“Who’re you?” the man grunted.

“A new entry,” Vhetin replied calmly, not moving from his position leaning up against the wall.

“Gotta name?”

“The Mandalorian.”

The man snorted and poked him in the chest again. “Don’t look much like a bucket-head. Not so tough without your armor, are ya?”

“ _Verd ori_ _’shya beskar’gam,_ ” Vhetin replied evenly. “A warrior is more than one’s armor.”

The man snorted again, then spat at Vhetin’s feet. “Warrior, huh? Well, you last three rounds in The Pit with me and I’ll be the judge of that.”

A Weequay male dressed in black stepped through and said, “Fighter Ten! You’re up against Fighter Thirty! Move it scumbags, we ain’t payin’ you by the hour!”

The man laughed again and turned back to Vhetin.

“Looks like it’s you an’ me first, bucket-head,” he said before walking away. “Time to have some fun.”

Vhetin pushed away from the wall and moved to his designated gate. He could hear the stomping and cheering of the spectators above his head, anticipating the coming fight. He was suddenly, powerfully reminded of the Battle Circle.

 _Same principle,_ he thought, cracking his neck slowly. _Just with no rules._

A surprisingly quiet voice came over an amplicoder, muffled slightly by the stone and wood in front of Vhetin.

“Next fight,” the quiet voice said. “Tenn Npot versus The Mandalorian. Place your bets.”

The Pit suddenly went silent as the gate in front of Vhetin slid open, disappearing into the stone around it. Vhetin took two steps into The Pit, surveying his fighting arena.

The Pit was smaller than the Battle Circle back on Mandalore, maybe only fifteen feet in diameter. The sides of the arena was a sheer wall of duracrete, stained and discolored with years of variously-colored bloodstains. The floor was covered in a thick mat of sand to soak up any blood, and the entire area was surrounded by spectator seating.

He saw Jay and Warren standing near the arena’s edge to his left. He caught Jay’s eye, then nodded slightly. She nodded back, looking worried.

He turned back to the arena in front of him just to see a meaty fist flying toward his face. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge the blow, and Tenn Npot caught him squarely in the chin with a powerful punch. His head snapped back and he let out a grunt of pain as he staggered back against the wall of The Pit. Npot followed up with a kick to the gut and a double-punch to the ribs that drove Vhetin to his knees.

Npot let out a shout of triumph and raised his fists in triumph, jogging around the ring as his supporters cheered him on. Vhetin struggled to his feet, gasping as he clutched at his ribs. Pain ripped through his chest with every breath, but it didn’t feel like any ribs were broken.

Nbot turned back to Vhetin and clapped a fist into his palm, growling, “What’d I say, bucket-head? Not so tough after all.”

Vhetin was on his feet and in the man’s face before he could blink. He started with a vicious uppercut to the jaw that sent the man staggering away with a curse. He stepped forward and followed up with a one-two-three punch to the stomach and chest, quickly followed by a Teräs Käsi crouch-kick to the left knee. Nbot shouted in pain and hopped away.

Vhetin straightened and clapped a fist into his palm, unconsciously mirroring Nbot’s earlier motion. His lip curled as he slowly stepped toward his opponent, who was leaning against the duracrete wall of The Pit.

“What’s the matter _aruetii_?” he asked. “Am I tougher than you thought?”

Nbot lashed out with a badly-aimed punch that Vhetin easily dodged. He ducked inside the man’s guard and smashed his fist into the side of his opponent’s face, quickly following up with another merciless knee to the gut. Nbot staggered away as the crowd began to boo at Vhetin, throwing food and drink containers at him from their viewpoint above The Pit.

He didn’t care; his heart was pounding, his blood was pumping, and he had eyes only for Nbot. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but this man was seriously pissing him off.

 _Careful_ , he thought to himself as he effortlessly batted a half-full plastoid drinking container away from his face. _You don_ _’t want to waste too much energy this early in the competition. End this fast._

He dropped into a crouch near the wall, brushing his fingers through the sand as he called, “Your move _aruetii_.”

Nbot finally caught his breath, glaring at Vhetin. He then broke into a run, cocking his fist back for another powerful punch. But Vhetin anticipated his move now; he quickly slipped out of his way. Nbot’s fist smashed hard against the duracrete wall. There was a sickening _pop_ as his fingers dislocated from the impact, and the man screamed in pain.

Vhetin quickly got to work; he grabbed Nbot’s wrist and wrenched sideways, breaking his forearm with a loud _crack_ that was met by pained gasps from the crowd. Then he grabbed Nbot’s head and drove the man’s head into his kneecap. The fighter groaned as he fell to the sandy ground, the fight over barely before it had even begun.

“ _Verd ori_ _’shya beskar’gam_ ,” Vhetin growled, kicking Nbot in the head and knocking the man unconscious as he stepped casually past, “ _mir_ _’shebs_.”

“The winner of the fight,” came the quiet voice over the amplicoder, “The Mandalorian.”

“Nice work,” Jay murmured over the comlink. “One down, twenty-nine to go.”

The next wave of fighters hardly made Vhetin break a sweat; there was a skinny Rodian, a muscular human man with the good looks and the intelligence of a rock, and a Nautolan with several severed head-tendrils, among others. None of them put up much of a fight and quickly fell before Vhetin’s enhanced reflexes and advanced knowledge of the Teräs Käsi fighting style.

The second wave of fighters was slightly more challenging; there was a Weequay with spike-studded wristbands, an arachnoid being who possessed four spindly arms tipped with razor-sharp pincers, and a dark-skinned man who boasted to be a Level 3 Teräs Käsi fighter. Vhetin himself, however, had mastered the more complex and dangerous Level 4 fighting moves, so the man’s flips and whirling kicks barley penetrated his defenses.

Half an hour later, sweaty and sore, Vhetin stood alone in the center of the ring, a groaning Nikto lying at his feet. His knuckles were bleeding, cut open from having to punch so many opponents, and he had several large bruises forming on his chest and shoulders.

“Well this certainly comes as a surprise,” said the quiet voice of the announcer. “The Mandalorian is proving himself a formidable opponent. But we have present one fighter who is assured to turn the tables on this lone warrior.”

The crowd slowly began to cheer and chant. It took Vhetin a moment to pick out the words as the spectators pounded their fists on the railing surrounding The Pit and chanted, “ _Tor... Tor... Tor..._ ”

“Yes ladies, gentlemen, and other assorted beings,” said the announcer, “welcome fighter Number One and the reigning champion of The Pit, Oppo Tor!”

The wooden gate underneath one gate slowly rumbled open again, revealing a dark, muscular figure within. Vhetin turned toward the being, slowly raising his fists.

He was taken aback, however, when the being stepped into the light, revealing pale, scaly skin and the twisted face and tooth-studded maw of a reptilian Barabel. The huge fighter surveyed the arena with glinting gold eyes. It tasted the air with a forked tongue, then raised a single huge fist and let out a hissing roar. The roar was met by cheers from the crowd.

“Jay,” Vhetin whispered urgently into the comlink. “You seeing this?”

“Oh yeah,” she replied. “Reptilian being, big talons, gold eyes... I think we’ve got our guy.”

“We have to be sure,” he said, raising his fists as Oppo Tor lashed his tail and narrowed his gold eyes at Vhetin.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I don’t use my psychometry on dead people,” he said as his opponent took a single huge step forward. “I have no such compunctions about using it on living people.”

“You’re going to try it on this guy?” Jay hesitated, then said, “So... do you want red or yellow flowers put on your grave?”

He chuckled, then signed off his end of the comm as Tor charged.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Jay winced in worry as the Barabel, Oppo Tor, caught Vhetin in the stomach with a powerful headbutt, sending her partner flying bodily across The Pit. He slammed into the duracrete a few meters away and crumpled into the sand.

“ _Ow_ ,” she heard him mutter over the comm. He gingerly got to his feet as Tor lashed his armored tail and snarled, thick strands of drool dripping down out of his wide, grinning mouth. The alien let out another hissing roar that was met by cheers from the gathered spectators.

Vhetin raised his fists and tensed as Tor charged again, lowering his scaly head to headbutt his opponent again. Vhetin knew what was coming this time, however, and ducked out of the way, punching hard at Tor’s ribs. There was a loud _crack_ and Vhetin cursed loudly, staggering away and cradling his hand. The spectators laughed and pointed at him as the announcer said, “Ah, looks like The Mandalorian is running into some trouble now.”

Vhetin wasn’t discouraged, though. He just took a deep breath and faced Tor again as the massive reptilioid turned back to him and snarled, pawing at the dirt as he crouched on all fours. As he charged again, Vhetin ran forward as well. As Tor roared and lowered his head for yet another headbutt, Vhetin leaped into the air, then planted a boot on his opponent’s head and pushed off. He pulled the jump into a forward frontflip as the force of his kick-off drove Tor’s head into the sand. The Barabel snarled as he got a face full of sand, struggling to his feet and snorting sand from his nostrils. He blindly slashed at Vhetin, who grabbed hold of the large, scaly arm and used it as a handhold as he swung forward and planted both boots right in Tor’s ridged face. Tor flailed back, roaring as dark blood spouted from both nostrils. Vhetin landed on his back in the sand, scrambling away as the Barabel stomped at the ground and roared loud enough to shake the light fixtures overhead.

“Looks like Tor is aggravated,” came the quiet voice of the announcer. “But does The Mandalorian have what it takes to bring him down?”

While Tor was still disoriented, Vhetin sprinted toward him and slid forward, catching him around a scaly ankle and sending the alien crashing onto his back. Vhetin moved forward, ready to press his advantage, but Tor caught him in the stomach with a violent kick, sending him flying bodily into the air.

Jay gasped; with seemingly supernatural speed he twisted and pivoted in mid-air, landing on his feet some distance away. He fell to his knees on the ring, breathing hard as he pulled up the facemask enough to spit a mouthful of blood onto the ground.

Tor grabbed hold of the rough surface of the duracrete wall and lumbered to his feet, growling deep in his throat. He fixed Vhetin with a furious glare, his golden eyes narrowing.

“Uh, you might want to hurry it up, Stripes,” Jay murmured into her comlink. “It looks like you _seriously_ pissed him off.”

Vhetin spun back to face his opponent, his kama billowing out around him gracefully, and motioned for Tor to bring it on. The Barabel snarled and flexed his huge hands, extending long talons that were as long as Jay’s hand. She saw Vhetin’s dark blue eyes widen slightly, but he didn’t flinch as Tor lumbered forward again. He ducked out of the way of the alien’s first slash, landing a double-punch to the Barabel’s armored gut. He ducked out of Tor’s next slash, punching him in the face hard enough to snap the reptilian alien‘s head to one side.

Vhetin was giving this fight all he had, but Tor was just too strong. Her partner ducked yet another clumsy slash, then was caught by a powerful backhand slap to the chest that sent him flying against the duracrete wall directly beneath Jay’s vantage point. He tried to struggle to his feet, failed, and crumpled into the sand once more.

Tor towered over the bounty hunter, raising a taloned hand with a roar. the spectators around The Pit cheered, chanting, “ _Kill...kill...kill...kill!_ _”_

Jay tensed, ready to jump over the railing around The Pit and help her partner. As she put a single hand on the wooden railing, however, Warren caught her wrist and whispered, “ _No_.”

“Are you crazy?” Jay snapped wrenching her hand free from Warren’s grasp. “That monster will kill him!”

“Don’t get involved,” Warren growled, grabbing Jay’s wrist again to keep her in place. “If you interfere now, we’ll all die. Give your partner a chance.”

Jay wrenched her arm from the Black Sun operative’s grasp and spun back to the fight just as Tor slashed down at Vhetin’s limp form.

Her partner moved faster than Jay’s eyes could follow; one moment he was lying in the sand, the next he had swung up over Tor’s shoulder and grabbed him in a tight headlock. Tor let out a rage-filled roar and stumbled away from the wall, clawing at Vhetin and furiously trying to shake him loose.

“ _Come on_!” Jay shouted, pounding a fist against the wooden railing and temporarily forgetting the need for discretion. “Choke him to death if you need to!”

But Vhetin didn’t try to suffocate Tor; he just held on tightly. And as Tor swung toward Jay and Warren’s viewpoint, he unexpectedly froze, suddenly standing as still as a duracrete pillar. A hushed silence fell over all the spectators, Jay and Warren included.

Tor stared at the wall, unmoving. His gold eyes glazed over and he began to snarl deep in his throat as his tail waved sluggishly over the sand behind him. He clenched his taloned hands into fists, relaxed them, then clenched them again.

A similar effect had come over Vhetin; his dark blue eyes were glazed as well and he stared distractedly off into space as he held his tight grip around Tor’s throat.

Warren leaned close to Jay and whispered, “What the hell is going on?”

Jay shook her head and said, “I have no clue. Did someone do something to them, or-”

She was cut off as Vhetin suddenly threw his head back and let out a shout. A blaze of pale blue-white light erupted from his eyes, making the spectators closest to his part of the ring curse and shield their vision.

Tor groaned as his eyes exploded with the same blinding blue-white light. A roar of effort was torn from his throat, his tail lashing back and forth behind him in distress. He spasmed for a moment, then fell into the sand with a grunt.

The flood of light continued to pour from Vhetin’s eyes for a few moments more, throwing ominous shadows onto the ceiling and walls and almost outshining the light fixtures above The Pit. Then the light abruptly died and the Mandalorian slid off Tor’s back, crumpling into the sand and not moving again.

There was silence throughout The Pit. Warren and Jay glanced at each other with identical expressions of shock and confusion. Then, as one, the spectators broke and ran for the exits.

Jay struggled to keep her place at the side of The Pit, watching as Tor struggled to his hands and knees, shaking his scaly head. He cast one last fearful glance at Vhetin’s seemingly unconscious form, then struggled to his feet and stumbled for the door.

Jay snapped into motion; she leaped over the railing and landed hard in the sand more than a meter below. She somersaulted to shed excess momentum, drawing her pistol as she came to her feet and shouted, “Oppo Tor! Hands on your head!”

The Barabel didn’t follow her orders; he just smashed through the wood of the western gate like it was packing foam and disappeared. Jay was about to pursue him when she heard Vhetin groan.

She turned to her partner to find him on his hands and knees, coughing as his arms shook violently from fatigue. She knelt next to him and hauled him to his feet. He staggered for a moment, then put a hand against the wall of The Pit and regained his balance.

“Are you okay?” she asked him, frowning in concern.

“Tor!” he suddenly cried, his gaze frantically darting around The Pit. “Where’d he go?”

“He got away,” Jay said. “We lost him.”

“No!” he said, taking a shaky step forward. “We have to go after him! We have to-”

He stumbled and Jay caught him before he could topple into the sand again. “It’s too late, Vhetin,” she said. “He’s gone.”

He stared at her for a moment, breathing hard, then reluctantly nodded as he readjusted his facemask; it had been partially pulled off by Oppo Tor’s backhand punch.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll find him again.”

He limped toward the door, Jay following concernedly behind him. She holstered her pistol and said, “Mind explaining what the hell was with the lightshow?”

“Psychometry,” he said, his dark blue eyes dull with exhaustion. “I used it on Tor, just like I said I would.”

“ _That_ was psychometry?”

He chuckled, though there was little humor in the sound. “Still don’t believe it’s real?”

Jay blinked, then said, “Well... were you able to read anything off him?”

He nodded, his voice shaking suddenly as he murmured, “Yes... it’s him.”

“Pardon me?”

He turned to her, and his blue eyes were full of a pain that Jay found alarming.

“It was Tor,” he said. “He killed the Mandalorians. I... I could feel it, like I was right there, inside his head.”

He stared at his hands, which were shaking violently. “These hands... I used these hands to rip my brothers and sisters apart. _I_ killed them.”

She stepped forward and slung his arm around her shoulders, helping him limp out of the arena. “It’s okay,” she said. “It wasn’t you who did those things. It was just a memory.”

He murmured something, but she didn’t hear what he said. They had just stepped over the remains of the door that the Barabel had crashed through in his escape when he suddenly struggled out of her grasp. He stumbled a few feet away and fell to his knees near one corner of the room, ripping off his facemask. Moments later the sound of gagging and vomiting sounded from the corner.

Warren suddenly appeared from an adjoining hall. She glanced around the area, then saw Jay and jogged toward her. As she drew close enough, she shook her black hair out of her eyes and panted, “What the hell happened?”

“Oppo Tor is the attacker we’re looking for,” Jay explained. “You need to notify all nearby Black Sun outposts and tell them to be on the lookout for a Barabel, possibly a security officer or construction worker. Tell _everyone_.”

Warren narrowed her green eyes suspiciously and said, “How do you know that?”

Jay glanced at Vhetin, who was still vomiting in the corner, then said, “It’s a long story.”

Warren glanced at the Mandalorian, her lip curling slightly, then reluctantly nodded and said, “I need to report these occurrences to Prince Xizor. I’ll meet back up with you later.”

She jogged off as Vhetin unsteadily clambered to his feet, replacing his facemask with trembling hands.

“Feeling better?” Jay asked as he stepped toward her again.

He certainly didn’t look like it; there was sweat and blood running down his chest and arms and his back was cut open in several places from being thrown against the wall so many times. There were several bruises forming on his stomach and shoulders and his entire body quivered with a mixture of exhaustion and adrenaline.

He took a shaky breath before murmuring, “I’m sorry. I was just... shocked by what I saw. The violence that was transferred in those memories...”

She shook her head and said, “There’s nothing to apologize for, Vhetin. Nobody’s perfect.”

He didn’t reply at first; he just looked away, surveying the dirty stone walls around them. His gaze lingered on the ruins of the wood gate, through which he could still see The Pit. Then he sighed and his shoulders slumped.

“Let’s grab my kit,” he said quietly, “and get the hell out of here.”

Jay couldn’t agree more.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

It was two hours before the sandy floor of The Pit was disturbed again. But it wasn’t the bare feet of a pitfighter or the dirty shoes of the building’s janitor that made their way across the empty arena. They were hardened combat boots tipped with spring-loaded rocket darts.

Boba Fett knelt in the center of the ring, his helmet’s rangefinder sliding down with a whir of mechanized rotors as his gaze roamed over the sandy floor. There were sporadic patches of dried blood all over the pit floor, most of it alien, some of it human. And some of it...

He moved up to a red patch of encrusted blood, too dark to be of human origin. He touched it lightly with his gloved fingertips, then narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and moved on.

The sand on the pit floor was too muddled with hundreds of footprints and other markings to get any good indication of who any of the combatants were, but it was easy to see that the newest of these prints were large.

 _Very large_ , he thought to himself. He placed his hand in one of the faint imprints, noting that the print was almost three times the size of his hand.

He stood and stalked over to what remained of the western gate, which was nothing more than a few splintered beams lying scattered through the room beyond.

It was obvious that the final combatant was much larger than humans, probably alien in origin. Without a clear footprint, however, it was impossible to tell just how large the creature was, or what species.

Satisfied that he had gathered all the information he could from the arena, he stood and made his way back up to the spectator stands above. As he reached the door, however, an unknown voice shouted, “ _Hey_! You’re not allowed down here!”

He turned toward the voice, hand on the butt of his pistol, to see the skinny Rodian bartender he’d seen in the bar above, known as Rizzo. The bug-eyed alien was hefting a deadly-looking energy shotgun, pointed directly at Fett’s chest.

“I have questions,” Fett said.

“ _I_ have a shotgun,” Rizzo replied. “And I’m telling you to leave.”

Fett jerked a thumb over his shoulder and said, “You keep security footage of all the pit fights? I want to see them.”

The Rodian’s proboscis twitched in irritation and his sucker-tipped finger tightened on the shotgun’s firing stud. “Leave,” he pressed. “ _Now_.”

“I’m looking for someone.”

“I’ve had enough of you,” the bartender grunted, shouldering the shotgun and squeezing the stud.

Fifteen high-energy blaster bolts exploded from the barrel of the shotgun, but Fett was already in motion. The bolts impacted harmlessly against the wall behind him as he darted forward, then grabbed the blaster and twisted hard. The audible sound of bones cracking could be heard over Rizzo’s high-pitched scream of pain as his hand was twisted painfully around the gun. The alien tried to struggle, but Fett held his grip firm.

“Security footage,” he repeated. “I want to see it.”

“Kiss my... _aah_!” Rizzo screamed as Fett twisted harder, straining the bone’s in his hand.

“Show me or I’ll break it.”

“Fine! Fine!”

Fett wrenched the shotgun from the alien’s grip and shoved Rizzo in front of him. He pressed the contoured barrel of the shotgun against his prisoner’s back and growled, “Move.”

Rizzo raised his hands and said, “Okay, okay! Just don’t hurt me!”

“Do what you’re told,” Fett replied evenly, “and no harm will come to you.”

They made their way down a side hall near the foot of the stairs, to a black durasteel door marked _SECURITY_. Rizzo tapped in the code with trembling fingers. As the door slid open with a hiss, Fett planted a boot in the alien’s back and shoved him forward into the room.

As he quickly followed, he saw two bouncers stationed within rise from their seats and draw blaster pistols. He swung the shotgun toward one and pulled the firing stud. The fifteen blaster bolts ripped into the human’s chest before he could even rise completely to his feet. He flipped head-over-heels and crumpled into a bleeding heap behind a bank of holographic monitors.

The other bouncer squeezed off a wild shot that just barely grazed Fett’s right gauntlet. Pumping a new blaster cartridge into the magazine, Fett swiveled and fired again, hitting the other bouncer in the knees. The man screamed and pitched forward. As he rolled over, Fett stepped forward and drove the butt of the shotgun into the man’s forehead, knocking him unconscious.

He didn’t waste any time in training the weapon back on Rizzo, pumping another cartridge into the magazine and gesturing with the shotgun at the holo-monitors.

“The security feed,” he said. “Pull it up. Now.”

Rizzo started and did as he was told, sliding into the seat one of the bouncers had occupied moments before and tapping a long string of commands into the computer. Fett stepped closer and said, “I don’t have to warn you of the consequences if you try to alert local law enforcement, do I?”

The Rodian shook his head, proboscis flapping wildly as he pulled up the recorded security feeds.

“Show that one,” Fett said, pointing over Rizzo’s shoulder. “The last fight. Monitor three.”

Rizzo obeyed and the security footage began playing on the holo-monitor closest to Fett. The bounty hunter turned and silently watched the blurry image as a masked human wearing a black belt-skirt fought alone in the center of The Pit. As the man in the image quickly dispatched his opponent, the western gate slid open, revealing the towering form of a reptilian Barabel.

Fett watched with interest as the rest of the fight unfolded; the man fought honorably, utilizing the formidable Teräs Käsi martial arts against his opponent. But he was just too small in comparison to the huge Barabel and the fight quickly turned brutal. The man was thrown against the rough duracrete wall time and again, until his already-scarred back was cut open in several places.

Then came the interesting part; the blinding flash of blue light that temporarily drowned out footage from the security cam. When the image slowly cleared, Fett saw the Barabel gone, the western gate smashed, and the man lying unmoving on the sandy ground. A woman jumped over the railing to the pit, somersaulting as she landed and drawing her pistol as she came to her feet. It wasn’t difficult to see that it was the same woman Fett had observed earlier at the remains of Depot Fifteen.

 _So..._ he thought, _Vhetin and his partner used The Pit as bait to draw the target into the open. Commendable, resourceful... but a cursory examination of previous fight vids would have provided the same result without blowing their cover._

He rewound the recording, then paused just as the Barabel raised a huge taloned hand for a seeming killing blow, just before the flash of light blinded the cam.  He pointed to the reptilian alien and turned his helmeted gaze to Rizzo.

“That fighter,” he said. “Who is he?”

“Oppo Tor,” the Rodian whimpered. “He’s a... he’s a worker in the reconstruction zone.”

“Where can I find him?”

“S-sector Twenty-Kay.”

Fett didn’t bother to thank him; he just whipped the stock of the shotgun across the back of his head, knocking the Rodian unconscious. He slumped over the holo-monitors with a groan.

Fett tossed the shotgun aside as he turned and strode out of the room, closing the door behind him so no one would notice the bodies within.

 _So..._ he thought as he headed back up to the bar and emerged into the open air once more, _the mysterious attacker now has a name: Oppo Tor the construction worker._

He wouldn’t make a move right away; Tor was probably laying low after realizing there were bounty hunters after him. Fett would let events play out for a while before making his move.

And if he was lucky, Vhetin and his new partner might just do all his work for him.


	8. Late Night

**Two hours later, Black Sun headquarters, Telos**

Vhetin sat at the desk in the quarters he’d been given, reading through various criminal reports printed on sheets of flimsiplast. His saber pike was leaning against the wall just within arm's reach and his helmet was resting on top of a stack of flimsi that he had read through twice already.

It was dull reading, to be sure; for a powerful criminal organization, Black Sun operated with an internal enforcement system that was almost as bureaucratic as that of the Empire.

 _Said enforcement troopers moved in_ , stated the report he was currently reading, _and engaged the target. As per initiative TT-1B, all troopers were outfitted with stun rounds and shockstaffs. Said stun rounds and shockstaffs were ineffective against said target. Trooper casualties were complete, and target disappeared. Patrol TX-28 were first to discover the scene of the crime and reported to nearest trooper command. This report submitted by Operative Le_ _’namo, active overseer of all activities, meetings, and business dealings on this day..._

Vhetin shook his head as he shoved the flimsi away and pulled another toward him. He'd been combing through Black Sun files for the past two hours, getting to work after he'd taken a sanisteam to wash the blood and sweat from his body.

The memories of what he'd read from Oppo Tor still haunted him, part of the reason he was finding it so hard to concentrate. The blood, the screaming, the violence he had personally felt as he saw the butchering of his fellow Mandalorians through the Barabel's eyes...

He angrily tossed the flimsi aside and rested his head in his hands, letting out a weary sigh.

And to top it all off, the other Mandalorian was still out there, shadowing his every move. He had pulled every security feed from the bar and the surrounding area and had found nothing; someone in the reconstruction zone had conveniently deployed a seismic reader that scrambled all the cams during the time Rizzo the bartender had mysteriously disappeared.

While at first he had assumed that this fellow Mando had been merely an ally who didn't know of Vhetin and Jay's involvement in Xizor's contract, he now though different. This Mandalorian had been presented with numerous opportunities to approach Vhetin and his partner and had chosen to stay silent and invisible. That either meant that this man was either too stupid to see there were other hunters on the job — unlikely — or he had no intention of working together.

Still, Vhetin was determined to find this man, by any means necessary. He had ordered the hard drive feeds from all the security cams to be delivered directly to him. He was hardly Jaing Skirata, but with some tinkering and a little luck, he might just be able to clear out some of the static that fogged the cam feeds.

On the brighter side, from what he'd heard, Prince Xizor was immensely pleased by his and Jay's progress during the day. They had succeeded where the Prince's own trusted operatives had failed time and again, and that had obviously advanced the two in his "good books". The mere fact that he had offered Vhetin and Jay their own private quarters at the local Black Sun HQ — which presented the face of a manufacturing outpost near the reconstruction zone — drove home that point. Vhetin had been given a medium-sized room complete with a private 'fresher, while Jay had been presented with a nearly identical room further down the hall.

After the day they'd both been through, they both deserved some rest. But  try as he might, Vhetin couldn't bring himself to sleep, or even to relax. He had good reason, too: Oppo Tor had disappeared, the pitfighters from the Watering Hole were all but frothing at the mouth to find the man who had brought chaos to their arena, and Rizzo the bartender was missing, probably dead.

In addition to the cam hard drives, he had also requested the reports of the depot attacks, to see if he could decipher a pattern in Oppo Tor's brutal attacks. If he could find out where Tor was planning to attack next, he and Jay might be able to beat the Barabel there and have time to prepare the defenses and draw him into a trap.

A knock came at the door, and he looked up, rubbing his eyes again.

"State your business," he called.

A heavily accented voice called back through the door, saying, "Prince's messenger."

He turned back to the flimsi scattered across the desk and replied, "The door's open."

There was a beep from the door, which retracted to reveal an attractive blue-skinned Twi'lek female. She looked only a few years older than Vhetin and was dressed in a loose black dress with her thick blue lekku hanging back gracefully over her shoulders. She stepped gracefully into the room, carrying a stack of datachips and flimsiplast folders.

"The... information Master asked for," she said in slow Basic, indicating the files in her arms with a twitch of her lekku.

"You don't need to call me 'master'. I'm sure you get enough of that around here." He nodded a clear space on the left side of the desk. "You can set them right here, thanks."

The Twi'lek did placed the folders and chips on the desk, then silently stepped back, out of sight.

Vhetin pulled the datachips toward him; the hard drive feeds from the security cams. He plugged one of the chips into a datapad on the desk and booted up the video feed.

Static. Big surprise.

He tapped in several long commands into the datapad to no avail; the pad revealed nothing but static and white noise. He worked in silence for several minutes before he heard the soft rustle of clothing behind him. Cocking his head at the sound, he turned in his seat.

The Twi'lek woman had pulled the straps of her dress down her shoulders and let the garment fall to the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath.

He frowned in confusion for a moment, then turned his head away awkwardly, cleared his throat, and said, "Um... what exactly are you doing?"

"Is the Prince's order," she explained. "He pleased with your service. You are to be rewarded."

“Okay,” he said slowly. “Thanks but no thanks. You can go ahead and pull your dress back up.”

"You not find me attractive?" the female asked, sounding both afraid and slightly offended.

"I... that's beside the point," he said, turning his back to her. "Why did you-"

“You are to be rewarded,” she repeated, and he heard her take a step closer to him. “I reward you.”

He held out a hand behind him, not turning his head, and motioned for her to stop. "I'm... flattered," he said, "I really am. But put your clothes back on."

"You not find me attractive?" she repeated.

"I'm not that kind of guy," he pressed. "Please put your clothes back on."

"I be punished if I am sent away," she pleaded.

He sighed and put his head in his hands again. Of all the things he needed right now, this was not among them. After a time, he took a deep breath, then said, "Okay. Put your clothes back on and you can stay here for the night. But no more... you know, okay?"

When he turned back to the female, he was relieved to see that she had indeed pulled her dress back up, her face turning a deeper shade of blue as she blushed deeply in embarrassment. She hugged herself, as if she were cold, and shifted her feet awkwardly. Obviously she had never been ordered to do anything like this before.

He gestured to the untouched cot along the wall nearby and said, "You can crash there, I guess. I'm going to be working for a while, so..."

She nodded and obediently sat on the edge of the bed, clasping her hands in her lap and staring at the floor. He watched her for a moment, then asked, "Do you speak anything other than Basic?"

She nodded shyly, avoiding his gaze, and said in Huttese, "I was taught Basic when I was taken into Xizor's service. It is obviously not my given language."

He smiled slightly and spoke in Huttese as he asked, "What's your name?"

"Taala. You are Cin Vhetin, the Mandalorian."

"You know your bounty hunters," he observed.

"Many of them work for my lord Xizor," Taala said with a timid shrug. "And I have lived in the service of my Master for some time."

"How did you come into Xizor's service?" Vhetin asked. He was pretty sure he already knew; organizations like Black Sun preyed off the weak and helpless as effectively as the Empire enslaved them. The only way Vhetin could stand working for them was knowing that the bounties he brought in for Prince Xizor were dangerous criminals that would meet a swift end at the Falleen's hands.

"I was sold to one of Xizor's lieutenants when I was ten," Taala admitted. "My family was unable to support another child; they gave me up to the local enforcement officers on Ryloth. A few years into my service, Master Xizor noticed my good looks and bought me. Now I serve him."

"And anyone he decides to 'reward,'" Vhetin murmured.

Taala stood and stepped up toward Vhetin's chair. She looked over his shoulder and said, "What are you working on?"

He picked up a miniature magnetic flaxer and began tapping it gently against the datachip. Sparks flew from the tip and the image on the 'pad flickered slightly.

"I'm trying to use this flaxer to draw the static out of the image," he explained. "It'll take a while, but-"

"Why don't you just copy the files over to a fresh drive and try to reconstruct the image from code?"

He frowned and looked at her. "What? I thought-"

She smiled shyly and said, “I spent three years in the service of a Black Sun computer technician who worked for a black market fence. He needed a lot of security, so I know my way around cam footage."

She held out a hand and said, "Here, give it to me and I'll see what I can do with it."

He stared at her for a moment, then put the datapad in her hand.

~~~~~~~~

**The next morning**

Vhetin was woken from a deep sleep by a knock on the door. He jerked his head up, peeled a piece of flimsi off his face, and rubbed his eyes. He looked around the room, blinking sleep from his eyes, then thought, _Oh... I must have fallen asleep while working_.

The desk was now strewn with flimsiplast reports, datachips and various technician tools, and maps of the Telosian plains. He did his best to return them to some semblance of order, then stood slowly, grimacing as his sore back popped loudly.

Taala was also out cold; she had fallen asleep some time after midnight while working on her fifth datachip file. She had since wrapped herself up in the thin covers on the cot and was now dozing peacefully, her breath slow and soft. He quietly picked up the datachips that had fallen on the floor and put them on the desk.

Whoever was at the door knocked again, and Vhetin quickly grabbed his helmet and saber pike. He clipped the weapon to his rocket pack and pulled his helmet over his head as he activated the door comm and said, “Who is it?”

“Who else would knock on your door?” came Jay’s voice. “You have the social skills of a rancor.”

He keyed open the door to find Jay standing in the hall beyond. She looked refreshed and well-rested and her pistol was already strapped to her hip. She had her arms folded across her chest and was tapping one foot impatiently.

“Good morning sleepyhead,” she greeted him. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“I had a long night,” he said, yawning behind his helmet. “Research, data slicing...”

“Uh-huh,” she said skeptically, standing on her toes and looking over his shoulder. Her gaze lingered on Taala’s sleeping form and she narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Care to explain that?” she said, nodding toward the Twi’lek.

Vhetin glanced over his shoulder and said, “Oh yeah. She was a... gift. From Prince Xizor.”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Right. And you didn’t... _accept_ this gift, did you?”

“Of course not,” he said, slightly offended that she would think such a thing. “But she would have been punished if I sent her away. So I said she could stay the night so she wouldn‘t get into trouble with her boss.”

“Right,” Jay said, grinning widely and winking. “Sure.”

“Come on, Jay,” Vhetin said, gesturing for her to follow him farther down the hall. “She actually helped out with slicing the security cam feeds, so stop messing around. Just because you didn’t get a ‘gift’-”

“Who says I didn’t?” she interrupted.

He stared at her, surprised. “What? Xizor sent someone to your room?”

She nodded, smiling as she said, “Yeah. Big tall guy, blond hair, good looks... He gave me the best back-rub I’ve ever had; it was the perfect way to wind down after the day we had yesterday.”

“A back-rub?” Vhetin asked, staring at her. “Nothing... else?”

She smirked at him. “Now that’s none of your business, is it?”

He shook his head and said, “Whatever. We’ve got another busy day today. You all ready to go?”

She nodded and he continued, “Good. I need to gather up some files and grab the sliced data, then I’ll catch up with you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” she said, heading further down the hall toward the building’s atrium while Vhetin turned back to his quarters.

As the door slid shut behind him, he pulled his helmet from over his head and clipped it to the side of his belt; the helmet’s HUD hurt his tired eyes, and the last thing he needed bugging him today was a headache.

It didn’t take long to gather the maps, flimsi sheets, and datachips together. He tucked the maps back into the folder they had come from and dropped the datachips into one of his belt-pouches. As he was cleaning up, Taala shifted and opened her eyes. She blinked and brushed her left lekku from in front of her face, much like a human woman would do with a wayward strand of hair. He glanced at her as he gathered the flimsiplast into a neat stack.

“Good morning,” he said in Huttese.

She yawned and offered him the same greeting. She rubbed her eyes as she sat up and looked around the room.

“I fell asleep,” she said simply.

He chuckled as he worked and said, “You did. Around midnight.”

She sighed. “I‘m sorry. Your work is important. I did not treat it as such.”

“Don’t apologize,” he said, dismissing the apology with a slight tip of his head. “You did more than enough, and the sliced security feeds will help more than you know.”

“And now you must leave?”

He nodded. “I have to track Tor down before he kills more people.”

“And I’ll never see you again,” she said, sounding disappointed.

He glanced over at her through the corner of his eye. Was she really as upset as she sounded? Nothing had happened between them. They had mostly worked in silence on their separate projects for the entire night.

She shyly met his gaze and said, “You are an honorable man, Cin Vhetin. If only more beings were like you-”

He chuckled, though there was little amusement in the sound. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes I do.”

“No you don’t,” he insisted. “Trust me, on most days I’m no better than any other criminal. Just because I have some semblance of a moral code doesn’t set me apart from them.”

She fell silent and stared at the floor. He looked at her for a moment, then narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and reached into one belt pouch.

“Hey,” he said to catch her attention. When she looked up, he tossed a silver rectangular chip to her. She caught it, surprise evident in her eyes as she turned over the credit chip in her delicate hands. She saw the denomination marking in the center of the chip and her eyes widened in shock.

“This...” she said breathlessly, “this is five thousand credits!”

He nodded, turning back to the desk. “It should be more than enough to pay for your freedom and start a new life. You don’t deserve to be a slave.”

She stared at the chip in her hands, speechless.

He pulled a blank piece of flimsi toward him, scribbling several words on it with a stylus.

“I’ve also noticed that you’re also a talented slicer,” he said as he wrote. “And I know someone who would pay well for your tech services.”

He placed the flimsi in her trembling hands and said, “When you’re released, follow these nav coordinates. They’ll lead you to a rural planet in the mid-rim, to the capital city called Keldabe. When you get there, ask for Jaing Skirata and tell him I sent you.”

She nodded, still staring at the small, seemingly insignificant square of durasteel in her hands. He smiled slightly and turned back to the desk, tapping a stack of flimsi into an orderly pile.

Taala opened her mouth to speak, closed it again. Then she stood from the cot and stepped toward Vhetin, throwing her arms around his shoulders and kissing him hard on the mouth. He blinked in surprise and made a sound of discomfort. She broke off after only a moment and hugged him tightly.

“Thank you,” she whispered in Basic. “Thank you, thank you.”

He gently pushed her back and said, “You’ve earned it. Now you’d better go see your boss. He’s going to have to start looking for another personal aide.”

He finished gathering up the things on the desk and replaced his helmet as she dashed for the door, all but punching the pad to open it. She flashed a dazzling smile back at him, then sprinted away, down the hall.

He stepped into the hall at a more sedate pace as he uploaded the first of the datachip files into his HUD systems. He plugged the chip into a socket on his gauntlet and waited for the file to load.

He was glad he had been able to help Taala out; he hadn’t been lying when he’d said that she didn’t deserve to be a slave. She was a truly gifted slicer, and she could profit off of that talent if she could only free herself from Prince Xizor’s service.

He found Jay waiting in the atrium, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair and thumbing through a catalogue of the different metals the manufacturing company sold. She was obviously bored, and gladly set aside the catalogue when she saw her partner approaching.

“You’re finally here,” she said, fixing him with a friendly glare. “Do you know how boring it is looking through a catalogue listing over five hundred different tensile strengths of durasteel bars?”

When he said nothing, she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and said, “Your Twi’lek friend just came running through here looking like she’d won the Imperial lotto. Something to do with you, I assume?”

“I gave her enough money to buy her freedom,” he said bluntly. “She deserved it.”

Jay laughed and stood, brushing her hands on her pant legs. “I’m surprised at you, Stripes. Was she really that good?”

“I’m not going to tell you again,” he said tersely. “Nothing happened.”

“Then why free her? I don’t think it was out of the kindness of your heart; that’s not how your brain works.”

“She helped me slice into the security cam hard drives,” he explained. “And from what I’ve seen so far she did a damn good job of it, too. She deserved better than a life of slavery.”

Jay shook her head as they set off through the front doors of the Black Sun headquarters. “Vhetin, Brianna told me all about your whole utilitarian perspective, making more good out of a situation than bad. But I’ve got to say, you take it a little far sometimes.”

“I won’t deny reward to those who deserve it,” he said. “And I won’t stand by while people need my help and I can readily and easily give it.”

“I’m not suggesting you do. But you can’t help everyone.”

“I can help anyone who deserves it.”

“And you’ll run yourself ragged trying to make everyone around you happy while they accept your help and offer you nothing in return.”

She glanced at him as they walked and said, “Trust me. I know. I spent three years dutifully serving the Empire and they stabbed me in the back all the same.”

“They more or less did the same to me,” he reminded her. “And that just strengthened my resolve.”

“How?”

“Most beings hate the Imperials because they take without giving in return. They strip-mine planets and leave the inhabitants to quarrel in the muck left behind, sell entire populations to slavery and pocket all the money, and buy expensive material at a self-imposed discount.”

He turned to her and said, “If a single person can help another when it is well within their ability and prerogative to do so, than you show just how different from the Empire they can be. They can show that there is still hope in the galaxy.”

She shook her head. “I think you’re wasting your time. You really think that people like Prince Xizor care if you’re similar or dissimilar to a money-hoarding Imperial?”

“Taala did,” he said bluntly. “I may have altered the course of her entire life with a kind gesture and a pocketful of credits.”

She opened her mouth to say something more, then closed it and frowned thoughtfully. They walked in silence for a time before she shrugged and said, “When you put it like that, utilitarianism doesn’t sound so bad.”

“That’s what I keep trying to tell people,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “And in return they keep branding me a sociopath.”

She shook her head, then clapped her hands together and said, “So... where do we start today?”

He handed her the bulging file of flimsiplast reports and maps and said, “Last night I correlated all the previous reports of Oppo Tor’s attacks on Black Sun depots. There were quite a few more than we were led to believe.”

“Any particular reason behind this?” she asked, flipping through the flimsi sheets in the folder, “or did you just do it for kicks?”

“There was a reason behind it,” he said. “But before I go into that, what did you find out about Tor’s criminal records?”

“You’re not going to like it.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I tracked down Tor’s construction registration and had Warren run his ID picture through the Imperial Police database.” Jay pulled a folded piece of flimsi from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. Written in her hand were notes that looked as if they were taken from a bounty report.

“Did the ImpPol database come back with anything?” he asked, unfolding the flimsi.

“Apparently Oppo Tor isn’t his real name,” she explained as Vhetin quickly read through the report.

 

_Bounty: Open (available to any who wish to make a capture attempt)_

_Name: Taba Tory_ _’nn_

_Species: Barabel_

_Sex: Male_

_Last known location: Mos Espa, Tatooine_

_Bounty Originator: Mos Espa Law Enforcement_

_Appearance: Typical Barabel male with dusty yellow scales and golden eyes. Usually wears sleeveless nerf-hide vest with large projectile blaster pistol holstered on belt. Subject is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous at all times._

_Brief: Wanted for the death and destruction of Law Enforcement personnel and property during a raid on a drug cache in Mos Espa. Tory_ _’nn killed over fifteen law enforcement officers and enforcement driods._

_Reward: 6,000 (alive)_

“What about a danger rating? Did you run the file through analysis programs?”

She silently motioned for him to flip the flimsi over. He did so and slowly read, _Danger rating: 10. Excessive caution crucial. Lethal force strongly advised._

“Great,” Vhetin muttered. “This job just keeps getting better and better. Where you able to find anything else?”

They paused at a street corner, heading toward an area on the edge of the construction town where they would have more peace and quiet to discuss their next plan of action.

“Tor,” Jay began, “or Tory’nn, or whatever the hell he wants to be called, was born on Coruscant. His parents were two Barabel mercenaries that served the Trade Federation as enforcers. When the Clone Wars began, Tor began working as an enforcer himself. For the Separatists.”

“Interesting,” Vhetin murmured, “but not overall surprising. Go on.”

“When the Wars ended, Tor had to bug out fast before the Republic could throw him in a max-sec prison for his rather extensive list of war crimes. He laid low for a while, working as a bodyguard for a drug dealer in Mos Espa. When the local authorities got wind of it they organized a raid. Tor ripped through them like flittersilk and disappeared. And then he shows up here about a year and a half ago.”

“Right around when these attacks started,” Vhetin said, nodding contemplatively. Then he frowned and glanced at his partner.

“Wait,” he said, “he never had any problems with Black Sun?”

Jay shrugged. “Nothing that was listed. Apparently he’s never so much as passed an undercover Black Sun operative on the street. Why he‘d be systematically destroying Xizor’s supply depots is beyond me. Sorry, Stripes.”

“Hm... that’s unexpected. But I think in the end that only helps us.”

“How?” Jay asked. “What were you able to find?”

They finally left the town behind them, emerging into the quieter edge of the buildings. They stopped near a permacrete table and sat down, where Vhetin pulled a map from the folder and spread it out across the surface.

“Last night, I analyzed this map,” he explained. “Marking where, when, and how each supply depot was attacked. I hoped that there would be some pattern or reason behind his attacks. I wasn’t able to find any.”

“Because there is none?” Jay said, sounding as if she hoped she was wrong.

“No,” he continued, shaking his helmeted head. “After a couple hours I thought I noticed something. Not quite a pattern, but...”

He gestured to the flimsiplast map on the table between them. The map showed a satellite image of a six-kilometer area of the Telosian plains; the Black Sun supply depots were scattered through the area, mostly hidden in the foothills or near what looked like a large rockslide.

Every one of the depots were interconnected by a series of hand-drawn concentric circles, colored blue. The circles steadily grew smaller and smaller until it almost hurt Vhetin’s eyes to look at them, and each circle ran directly through at least one depot.

“I found out that the first depots to be attacked were here.” He tapped a finger against the smallest of the blue circles. “Inside this area. As time went on, the attack radius slowly grew larger and larger, until the newest attack...”

He tapped Depot Fifteen, on the edge of the largest circle.

“...here,” he finished, sounding triumphant.

Jay frowned and pulled the map closer to her, squinting as she looked closer. After a time she glanced up at Vhetin for a moment and said, “So... you think that Tor is... what, exactly?”

“Tor is a Barabel,” he said. “And they’re known to be fiercely territorial. Up till this point, we’ve been going at this thinking that he was some kind of disgruntled employee. But nothing made sense; he’s a construction worker and part-time criminal enforcer with absolutely no ties to Xizor’s organization. It doesn’t make sense, right?”

She raised her hands and shook her head. “You’re getting no argument from me.”

“But,” he said, tapping the map again, “what if this isn’t personal? What if he’s just defending his marked territory?”

She frowned thoughtfully. “That... that makes sense, I guess. Some reptilioid species are known to move into new areas where other alpha males are already well-established and start a kind of guerilla war until they solidify their place in the pecking order.”

“Exactly. I think that’s what Tor is doing.”

“So now it’s just a matter of tracking Tor to his hideout-”

“Which is more likely than not to be somewhere in this area,” Vhetin said, gesturing to the smallest three circles.

“-and finding some way to subdue him,” she reminded him.

“Yeah,” he said slowly, his triumph and excitement slowly fading. “I’m... I’m still working on that.”

“And you’re sure you can’t just amputate a couple limbs with your saber pike?”

He shook his helmeted head. It was a good idea, and he had considered it himself at first. “It won’t work; Corey Black reported that he tried using a lightsaber against Tor when he attacked Depot Fifteen. It just bounced off his scales.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be impossible? I thought lightsabers cut through anything.”

He gestured to his own armor. “ _Beskar_ is lightsaber resistant. And there are several documented metal ores that can withstand the weapon’s blade. It wouldn’t surprise me if Tor has found some chemical way to harden his scales until they’re almost indestructible.”

“What, like a liquid _beskar_ scale polish?”

“Now isn’t the time for jokes.”

She shrugged before clasping her hands on the tabletop and saying, “What about the cam feeds your pretty Twi’lek friend managed to slice? Anything from that?”

“I haven’t had a chance to look through them yet,” Vhetin said. “But thanks for reminding me.”

He stood and activated the holoprojector mounted on the side of his helmet. The image from a security cam feed flashed to life on the tabletop. It showed a view near the ceiling of The Pit, looking down into the arena.

Jay’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow,” she said. “Maybe I was wrong about the Twi’lek fem. She did a good job cleaning up these cam feeds. I don’t-”

“Shh,” Vhetin said suddenly, frowning as a dark figure slowly stepped toward the center of the arena. It looked like a human male dressed in traditional Mandalorian armor. He had a jetpack similar in model to Vhetin’s own, and had a waist-length shoulder cape. The shimmering hologram colored everything a pale blue, but Vhetin remembered the coroner’s statement that the man wore green armor with red trim.

“Recognize him?” Jay said, squinting at the holo.

“No,” Vhetin said, zooming in on the man. “Not really. I don’t...”

He stopped, then narrowed his eyes and murmured, “What the hell?”

He increased the sharpness of the picture. The fuzzy image of the man slowly resolved into focus, showing more details of the man; dull, well-worn armor, pale shoulder pads, the Mandalorian _kyr_ _’bes_ crown printed across one of the pads, what looked like braided hair or scalps over the left shoulder. But as the man’s helmet slowly resolved into focus, showing a large dent in the metal over the right side of the dome, Vhetin’s eyes slowly widened in realization.

_No. Damn it, please say I_ _’m wrong._

But he wasn’t wrong; all the details were right there in front of his eyes. The dirty green-red armor, the shoulder cape, the mythosaur skull on one shoulder pad, the braided scalps that he knew to be Wookiee fur.

“Jay,” he said slowly, “how long is it back to the ships?”

She frowned, looking worried at his sudden quiet tone. “What?”

“How long?”

“About ten minutes. What’s got you so worried?”

Vhetin deactivated the hologram, scooped up the files from the tabletop, and began running toward the nearest speeder bus. Through his helmet’s 360-degree vision he saw Jay start with surprise and stand from her seat, jogging after him.

“What is it?” she called. “Who is that guy?”


	9. Following Fett

**Seven minutes later**

Boba Fett brought _Slave I_ low over the Telosian plains, heading for a small settlement he’d picked up on the scanners. It was too big to be Oppo Tor’s hideout, but maybe the beings there would have information; they were well within Tor’s established territory.

The settlement looked like nothing more than a small collection of log cabins, with a central gathering place around what looked like a campfire and a small field of crops, recently harvested.

A few scattered species of humanoid aliens looked up in surprise as _Slave I_ roared over their heads, swinging around until her engines were parallel with the ground and settling down for a landing some meters from their settlement.

Fett unbuckled himself from the pilot’s seat and swung down from the cockpit. The exit door slid up into its housing with a hiss and Fett strode down the slightly-curved bulkhead near the back of his ship. The morning air was colder than usual and Fett could see slight puffs of breath from the beings that had assembled to stare in confusion at his ship.

“Greetings, traveler,” a white-haired human said, stepping forward and offering his hand. “I am Uni. What brings you to our humble settlement?”

Fett stared at the offered hand for a moment, then pointedly ignored it. He looked at Uni and said, “I’m here for information.”

The man chuckled and said, “I’m not sure how much help we can be; our settlement is some distance from the nearest starport. We don’t get many visitors.”

“I’m looking for a Barabel,” Fett said, pulling a holoprojector from his belt and activating it. The device threw up a rotating image of Tor’s construction ID.

“Yellow scales, golden eyes,” Fett elaborated. “Goes by the name of Oppo Tor.”

Uni’s eyes narrowed slightly and his friendly voice took on a somber note. “This being...” he said slowly, “I know him well. He passes through this area every few months. He is almost always followed by death and destruction.”

“When did you see him last?”

Uni rubbed his chin and said, “Well... the crops were almost ready to gather up, and a new batch of refugees had just arrived here, so I’d say... two weeks ago?”

Fett nodded, half to himself, thinking, _That would fit in with what that Mandalorian, Corey Black, said he witnessed. Tor would have had to pass through this area to get to Depot Fifteen._

He turned back to Uni and said, “You’ve spotted him on multiple locations?”

“Three times now,” the old man said, nodding.

“Why didn’t he kill you all? Witness reports say he’s not much for mercy.”

Uni shrugged. “He has never actually attacked us. He has just kidnapped or killed a few of our people and moved on.”

“That doesn’t really make sense,” Fett said. “He’s never left any survivors in the past.”

“I’m just telling you what we’ve experienced,” Uni said.

"Do you know where Tor lives? Does he have a home or a transport that he stores anywhere nearby?"

"I cannot say. All we do here is avoid him when possible and live our own quiet lives."

Fett stared at the man, then nodded and said, "When he does show up, what direction does he come from?"

Uni turned and pointed over his shoulder, toward the southeast. Without another word, Fett turned and strode back to his ship.

"Be careful, traveler!" Uni called after him. "Danger and death lie ahead of you! You would do well to exercise caution."

"Caution can only get a man so far in life," Fett called back over his shoulder. He raised his rifle and said, "That's why I carry this."

Then he strode up the ramp into his ship. Moments later, _Slave I_ lifted off and blasted away toward the southeast.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

"Boba Fett? I've never heard of him."

Vhetin stared at the white-haired man in disbelief. "What?" he said. "How could you-"

Jay put a hand on her partner's shoulder and drew him aside.

"Look," she whispered, "these guys aren't your average run-of-the-mill corrupt Underworlder. They're just simple farmers. They know next to nothing about bounty hunters."

She turned back to the white-haired man, who had introduced himself as Uni, and smiled warmly. "Um... this man," she began slowly, "whether you know him or not, is very dangerous."

"He showed us no aggression," Uni said. "How do we know _you_ are not the dangerous ones?"

"Just tell us what he wanted," Vhetin muttered, "and we'll be out of your hair."

Uni shrugged. "I see no problem with that. He was looking for someone."

"Who?"

"A Barabel with yellow scales and golden eyes. He seemed quite insistent."

 _I'll bet_ , Jay thought with a slight scowl. She had never met Boba Fett, but the stories about the man were abundant. He was Darth Vader's right-hand thug, the man who it was said could track a man through hell itself and still manage to catch him. The Empire may have kept their noses out of Underworld business, but Fett had no such restrictions. He would go through anyone and anything he had to to get to his target, and that showed a ruthlessness of intent that even Vhetin was lacking.

To say that Jay was not excited about being in this man's blaster sights was an understatement of gigantic proportions.

"Did you tell him anything?" Vhetin asked.

"Why yes," Uni replied. "I told him that we'd seen him in the past, most often approaching our settlement from the southeast."

"Anything else?"

The white-haired man shook his head. "No. Nothing."

Vhetin was about to leave, but Jay grabbed his arm and said, "Hey, there. Manners, remember?"

"Oh..." he said. "Right."

He tossed a twenty-credit chip to the man. Then he turned back to Jay and said, "Happy now? Can we go?"

She sighed and followed him back to where they'd left _Void_ and _Vengeance_. She glanced at him as they walked and said, "You know, one of these days someone's going to have to teach you some semblance of social graces. I'd mention it to Brianna, but... well, she's probably going to fall back on her usual plan for dealing with things and let's face it, you're not going to learn anything at gunpoint."

"Leave etiquette to protocol droids," he grunted. "In the meantime, we've got to catch up to Fett before he gets to Tor."

They split up, heading for their own separate ships. Jay swung into the cockpit and warmed the engines for takeoff.

"So Tor usually approaches this settlement from the southeast?" she asked over the intercom. "Doesn't that fit with your estimate of his base’s location?"

"Almost exactly."

"Then let's go check it out," she said as the two ships roared off toward the southeastern horizon.

It was only a four minute flight before Vhetin said, "Wait. _Void_ 's sensors are picking up a building down there."

"Down where?"

The familiar spearhead shape of _Void_ swooped in front of her ship, descending toward the foothills. Its engines dimmed to a dull blue and the six spider-like landing legs folded out of the ship's housing.

Jay quickly followed suit, following her partner's ship through the sky as a dark smear appeared on the ground far below. After only a few moments, it resolved into the boxy shape of an old building.

 _There it is_ , Jay thought. _Tor's hideout, right where Vhetin said it would be._

"Any sign of Fett?" she asked over the ship comm.

"Not yet," Vhetin replied, his voice almost too quiet to hear. "But keep your eyes open. He has a head-start on us; he's out there somewhere."

' _Keep your eyes open,'_ Jay echoed in her head. _That's not going to be enough. If Fett is out there..._

She sighed as she brought her ship in for a landing. This was _Boba Fett_. He was the worst nightmare of fugitive and fellow bounty hunter alike, the boogeyman of pirates, smugglers, and thieves across the galaxy.

 _I am going to die_ , she thought.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin's eyes were narrowed to little more than slits as he surveyed Tor's hideout. Or whatever was left of it.

He had been expecting some kind of old military base of the kind that Kassh Goran had utilized. But Tor's refuge was little more than a run down wooden house. It may have even been a mansion at one point, but time and the elements had driven any semblance of upper-class grace from the building. Huge sections of boards were rotting away, the ceiling had collapsed, and it looked as if the local Cannok population had built a nest inside; there was a long stream of foul-smelling slime leading into the darkness within the building.

"Why would anyone want to build such a big building out here in the middle of nowhere?" asked sounding breathless as she stepped up next to him.

"During the days of the Old Republic," Vhetin explained as they approached the mansion, "a lot of upper-class aristocrats decided to find a place to get away from the stress of the galaxy. Some of them chose to build on Naboo, some chose Alderaan, and some chose Telos. I guess this is one of their long-lost summer homes."

"Interesting history lesson," Jay said. "But what do we do now?"

Vhetin handed her an DC-17 battle rifle and unhooked his own from a clip on his belt. The rifle, favored by black-ops Imperial Commandos, was a contraband weapon that was nonetheless a jack-of-all-trades when it came to the dangerous profession of bounty hunting. With interchangeable sniper and anti-armor attachments, it was an invaluable tool when hunting dangerous fugitives like Oppo Tor, and Vhetin couldn't even begin to count how many times the weapon had saved his life.

Jay quickly checked the condition of the rifle, then tucked the extra ammo clips Vhetin handed her into a pouch on her belt. She slid a magazine into the housing on the left side of the rifle, slapping her palm against the side before shouldering the rifle and taking a deep breath.

He glanced over at her as he shouldered his own weapon. "Nervous?" he asked.

"We're about to kick down the door," she breathed, "on a two-meter armored colossus who's responsible for ripping fifteen well-trained Mandalorian Warriors limb from limb. He's already beaten you almost within an inch of your life and he's also being hunted by the single most ruthless bounty hunter in the galaxy."

She shot him a glare and said, "Me? Worried? No, and why the kriff should I be?"

He chuckled slightly and stepped forward cautiously. "All right," he said, "I'll go first. You know the plan?"

"If — and let's just be realistic and say _when_ — you die, I'll go back to Black Sun headquarters and demand an Imperial Commando strike team to back me up.

He smiled slightly and murmured, "Your confidence in our ability to bring him down is almost overwhelming."

"I'm just being realistic," she whispered as she followed him. She was eyeing the front door of the house nervously as it slowly drew closer. "This guy-"

"Is nothing more than a means to another paycheck," he said.

"What about Fett?"

"Nothing more than a minor irritation," he said. "We haven't even seen him yet."

Together they flanked each side of the door, just as they'd practiced during Jay's months of training. Jay let out a long breath, clicking on the flashlight at the end of her rifle. Vhetin did the same, though his HUD systems would automatically convert to night-vision once it sensed that the ambient light was too dark for him to see.

"It'll be okay, _Ja'ika_ ," he said. "On three?"

She nodded and closed her eyes. "One..." she breathed, "two... _three_!"

Vhetin swung around and planted his armored boot in the center of the door. The rotted wood gave way and the door was fell inward with a loud _crash_. The world flashed a neon green as his HUD systems converted to night vision mode. He took four steps into the house, his rifle barrel roaming over the interior room, covering all the angles he could.

Jay was right behind him, her rifle flashlight illumination sections of the room as she covered his back. They were back-to-back as they slowly moved into the room, each of them watching their side of the room intently.

"See anything?" Jay said, breathing hard as her flashlight beam flashed from one side of the room to another.

"Nothing," he replied calmly. "How about you?"

"Nothing but an empty room."

"Okay," he said, relaxing and lowering his rifle. His helmet's rangefinder slid down over his right eye and he began scanning the area.

The room they had entered seemed to be some kind of vestibule that led to the rest of the house. Long, faded tapestries hung on the wall, hanging in shreds due to years of gnawing by prairie rats. Several doors led to other rooms on the first floor, but many of them were encrusted with mold or just not there, having fallen off their hinges years ago. A huge staircase led up to a second floor, where dark hallways led deeper into the house. A walkway led around the second floor, offering what used to be a terrific view of the atrium below, and intricately carved railings stretched around the walkway, protecting any passerby from an eight-meter drop to the rotted floor below.

Consulting his scanner, Vhetin saw there were heat readings everywhere; for a moment, he thought they were surrounded. But the readings showed nothing more than small prairie rodents and the occasional cannok pup. No sign of anything large enough to be Oppo Tor.

"So," Jay whispered. "We're inside. What now?"

"We comb through the house and make sure we're clear. If it is, we fall back and rethink our battle strategy. If not..."

She glanced at him, then whispered, “You know, I hate it when you talk like that.”

Working each end of the room, they hunted through each room on the first floor. They found little more than the occasional Cannok nest and empty, old rooms. Jay once found a room full of old dinnerware that may have fetched a hefty price on the Black Market, but Vhetin told her to leave it. They weren't here for Tor, nothing else.

"Last room on my side..." Vhetin whispered over his comm. They were working as quietly as they could, careful not to alert anyone inside the building to their presence. Kicking the door in was a radical entrance, designed to startle anyone inside. Now that they were inside and no one was showing themselves, things got a lot more dangerous.

He quietly pushed the door open and stepped inside, moving his rifle barrel over the single room.

The walls were old and dirty, and the single window was shattered outward, letting warm air waft into the strangely cold mansion. The floor was a mess, covered in a sticky green substance that clung to Vhetin's boots as he stepped further into the room. His lip curled in revulsion as he looked at the muck that covered the floor.

 _Probably cannoks_ , he thought, shaking his head. _Ugh... just when you thought they couldn't get any more disgusting._

"Okay," he said, turning and heading back out. "My room's clear. How about you, Jay?"

"Nothing but dust and cobwebs," she replied as her flashlight beam grew closer through the darkness. "On to the second floor?"

"On to the second floor," he agreed.

As they slowly walked up the stairs, the wood creaking loudly beneath their feet, Jay flexed her grip on her rifle and whispered, "I have a bad feeling about this."

"You realize that every time you say that, you openly invite bad things to happen?"

"I think it helps to get it out in the open," she whispered back as they split up again, heading for their separate sides of the house. “And at least it makes me feel better while it lasts.”

Vhetin chuckled quietly as he slowly opened the door to the first room along the hall. “I’m just making an observation,” he said. “And every time you say that, something bad seems to happen just a few seconds-”

A huge force suddenly slammed into his chest, sending him flying back through the door. He hit the railing along the walkway behind him and crashed through it with a shout. He fell eight meters to the rotted hardwood floor below, landing with a crash of armor plates.

“Vhetin?” Jay shouted, running to the railway on her side. “Are you-”

A deafening roar cut her off, echoing through the halls of the house. Her rifle was instantly shouldered, flashlight beam cutting through the darkness.

With another roar, a scaled, taloned hand ripped through the wall, sending rotten wood chips flying through the air. Oppo Tor bashed his way through the door, howling ferociously.

Jay opened fire with her rifle, blue blaster bolts lighting up the room and casting jumpy shadows on the walls. The majority of the blaster bolts hit Tor in the chest and shoulders, but he did little more than flinch in irritation. He squared his massive shoulders and took a step toward his attacker.

Jay, in turn, took a step back, releasing the DC’s trigger and murmuring, “Um... now what?”

Vhetin struggled to his hands and knees, panting and wincing as each breath sent a spike of pain through his chest. He unclipped a pouch from his belt and coughed, “Jay! Catch!”

He threw the pouch into the air as hard as he could. Jay caught the pouch as Tor slowly approached and shook out the cylindrical anti-armor DC attachment, complete with three grenades as ammunition.

She quickly unclipped the blaster barrel and magazine, tossing them to the floor. With a well-practiced movement she snapped on the anti-armor tube to the end of her rifle and slid a grenade into its housing. She snapped the tube up and shouldered the rifle again as a loud _clack_ sounded from the weapon, signifying that it was ready to fire.

Tor hesitated, his golden eyes narrowing as he focused on the newly-configured rifle.

“Oppo Tor,” Jay said, her finger tightening on the rifle’s firing stud, “you’re under arrest. Get on your knees and put your hands on your head. Do it now, and I won’t have to splatter your innards across the wall.”

Tor's forked tongue flicked out, testing the air. He narrowed his golden eyes and hissed, "You foolz. You are fighting a losing battle. You cannot defeat me."

"On your knees," Jay repeated slowly. "Don't make me ask again."

Tor let out a hissing roar and charged as Jay fired her rifle.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

A wash of flame flashed from the thick tube at the end of Jay's rifle and a concussive shock wave hit her in the chest, blasting her off her feet and sending her sprawling on her back further down the walkway. She blinked, staring at the ceiling as she heard Oppo Tor bellow in pain and rage, echoing as if from the bottom of a long tunnel.

An echoing explosion slowly faded, leaving her ears ringing and her eyes watering from the smoky air. She coughed and struggled to sit up, only to collapse back onto the floor with a groan. Every muscle in her body was on fire, and it felt like she'd been punched in the chest by a rancor.

 _Now_ that _is a hell of a gun_ , she dazedly thought, rolling over onto her stomach with a groan.

A muffled bootstep sounded next to her head and she craned her neck, expecting to see Vhetin coming to help her. But through her watering eyes, she saw an armored form that — while similar — was definitely _not_ Vhetin.

This man wore battle scarred green-red armor and a shoulder cape and wielding a blaster carbine. Bright red blaster bolts lit the darkness around the walkway, hitting Tor in the head and shoulders.

"Oppo Tor!" the man shouted in a gravelly, accented voice. "On the floor, hands on your head!"

Tor flailed his huge arms, then spun and slammed his thick, armored tail against the man's chest, sending him crashing into the wall. He fell to his hands and knees with a grunt, rotten wood chips skittering across the floor around him. He quickly shook it off, however, and stood with a muttered curse as Tor turned and stomped down a dark hallway.

He looked like he was about to take off after the Barabel when he hesitated and turned to Jay. He slowly knelt down next to her and pressed the barrel of his carbine to her forehead.

"Stay out of my way," he murmured, "and you won't get hurt."

Then he stood and sprinted into the dark hall as well. Jay stared after him with wide eyes, then collapsed onto her back, coughing uncontrollably.

Vhetin came sprinting up the stairs, favoring his left leg and holding his right arm close to his chest. He glanced around the area, saw Jay, and jogged toward her.

"Are you all right?" he asked, kneeling next to her and offering her a hand. She gratefully accepted it and he hauled her to her feet.

"You fired the anti-armor round too close to the target," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice. "Got hit with the backdraft."

She coughed again, then pointed down the hall and gasped, "There... _there_."

He glanced in the direction of her hand. "What? What's there?"

"Tor," she groaned, clambering to her hands and knees with his help. "And... and Fett."

"Fett?" her partner echoed, glancing down the hall again. "He's here?"

She nodded and he suddenly dropped her hand and took off down the hall. Jay wobbled, unbalanced, then fell to the ground in a heap again.

"I'll take Fett!" the Mandalorian shouted over his shoulder. "You go after Tor!"

"Ugh," she grunted as she shakily clambered to her feet. "Yeah... I'll get right on that."

She shook her head as she jogged down the hall, wincing with each step.

 _Yeah_ , she thought, scooping up her DC as she went. _I am so going to die._

She fed another grenade into the rifle as she quickened her pace. A stream of dark Barabel blood led through the twisting hallways, leading her on a path through the huge mansion. Old doors and decaying rooms larger than the _Oyu'baat_ cantina flashed by on the edge of her vision, but she had eyes only for the blood splatters on the creaking floor beneath her feet.

She ran for a few hectic minutes before she heard voices shouting in the hall ahead. She easily recognized Vhetin's usually quiet voice, though it was now shot through with rage.

"Fett!" he shouted. "This is _my_ contract! Stop now and I won't kill you!"

She sprinted around a corner just in time to see the green-red armored bounty hunter leap head-first through a splintered, Oppo Tor-sized hole in the wall. Vhetin took three steps forward and leaped after him, wrapping his arms around the other man's waist and driving them both toward the ground far below.

Jay skidded to a halt at the breach in the wall, staring in horror as her partner plummeted head-first toward the ground.

Then, with a deafening roar, twin spouts of fire erupted from Fett's rocket pack tubes. Jay started and covered her ears against the noise, watching in amazement as Fett shot into the air, taking Vhetin with him. A thick pillar of smoke and fire propelled the two into the sky, and in a few moments, they were little more than dark specks against the sky.

She stared up at the sky, then shook her head and turned back toward the inside of the house again. Vhetin may have his head in the clouds at the moment — literally — but Jay still had a job to do. Tor was around somewhere, and she needed to find him.

She shouldered her rifle and stepped back down the hall, thinking, _Tor's still here somewhere. He knows that the plains around this mansion are bad cover, so he's going to stay somewhere he can hide._

She opened the nearest door, getting back to work on clearing the mansion. The first few rooms she checked were exactly the same as always; old, rotted, smelly, and empty. Occasionally she came across an abandoned cannok nest, but there was nothing she hadn’t seen already.

She hoped Vhetin would be all right. If even half the stories she'd heard about Boba Fett were true, even her partner would need to give it everything he could just to walk away alive. If he wasn’t dead already.

She stopped dead as she pushed open the third door down the hall and saw that this room wasn't empty.

No life forms stirred inside the smelly old room, though the shattered window along the southern wall didn’t look like an accident. But the room had definitely been inhabited at some point not long before.

Scattered across the floor and posted by adhesive strips on the walls were hundreds of maps, holopics, and schematics. They were instantly recognizable; Jay had investigated one of those buildings just the day before.

Every map and blueprint was of a standard Black Sun supply depot, with details focused on access points in perimeter defenses and guard movements.

She walked slowly into the room, looking around the area cautiously. Her feet shuffled over flimsiplast sheets that were scattered across the floor as she stepped up to the wall.

 _What the hell is this?_ she wondered, staring at the variety of maps. It didn't take long to spot a flimsi similar to the map Vhetin had drawn earlier, with the concentric circles of Oppo Tor's estimated territory.

She frowned slightly and thought, _I guess Stripes was right after all. All this isn't personal for Tor; he's just protecting his territory._

She pulled a small, round transmitter beacon from her belt and pushed the blue activation button before tossing it to the ground. If —  _when_ — Vhetin got back from his sky-high scrap with Fett, he'd need to know about this.

She stepped away from the wall and lowered her rifle. _Okay,_ she thought as she backed out of the room. _So now we've got a whole lot of new evidence to go off of. Now even if we lose Tor, we can-_

She wasn't able to finish her thought; as she turned back to the hallway, a huge, taloned hand swung out of the darkness. She felt a sharp jerk in the back of her neck, then everything went black.


	10. Battle in the Clouds

Vhetin shouted in a mix of rage and fear as Fett's rocket pack carried the two of them hundreds of feet into the air. Clouds flashed past their heads and howling wind drowned out all other sound over Vhetin's audio receivers.

Strained by the extra weight of a second fully-armored Mandalorian, Fett's rocket pack sputtered and screamed with effort as they slowly climbed higher into the sky.

"Get... _off_ me you crazy barve!" Fett grunted, driving his elbow into Vhetin's faceplate. Vhetin cursed as he lost his grip on Fett's rocket pack and was driven back into open air.

He spun and twisted in free-fall for a few heart-stoppingly long moments before he triggered his own rocket pack. Twin spouts of white-hot flame erupted from his own pack's thrust tubes, and he quickly leveled out, floating in the air hundreds of feet above the ground.

Most rocket packs were designed for quick getaways, harnessing enough power for a few seconds of flight. But Vhetin preferred to utilize a Mitrinomon FLT-38 model, an up-armored version of the typical jetpack that offered up to an hour of sustained flight and functioned at altitudes up to twenty thousand feet.

Fett leveled out as well, his own FLT rocket pack sputtering for a moment before spinning in mid-air. He readjusted his shoulder pads and raised his blaster carbine, growling, "Damn you, Vhetin. Do you have any idea how touchy these jetpacks are?"

Vhetin pulled his own DC-17 rifle from the clasp on his belt and sighted in on the center of Fett's helmet.

"Nice to see you too, Fett," he muttered. "I knew it wouldn't be long before I ran across your sorry carcass again."

"You sound resentful," the other hunter observed, his voice strangely calm considering that they were both hovering at least seven hundred feet above the ground.

"Last time I saw you," Vhetin growled, "you shot me. In the _back_."

"Only fools fight fair. You of all people should know that."

"We were supposed to be partners," Vhetin growled. While he was talking, he pulled up the activation window for his rocket pack's missile launcher. The conical missile mounted on his pack could take out an entire building upon impact; more than enough to swat Fett out of the sky. "I trusted you."

"Then that was your mistake," Fett said. "One of the most important rules of bounty hunting is to trust no -"

There was a deafening roar as Vhetin hunched his shoulders and slapped the readout on his gauntlet. He was blasted back head-over-heels in midair as the missile exploded out of its housing and hurtled straight for Fett. The other hunter cursed and twisted, darting up and to the side to avoid the rocket.

The rocket missed, streaking off into the clouds, but Fett swerved right into Vhetin's trap. The black-armored Mandalorian increased thrust to his pack and shot forward, tackling Fett around the waist again.

The two spiraled through the air, punching and kicking at each other as fast and as hard as they could. Fett tried to bring his carbine up, but Vhetin grabbed it and wrenched it from the other hunter's grip. The weapon plummeted to the ground far below, spinning lazily as it went.

Fett head-butted Vhetin in the faceplate, breaking his hold. Vhetin flew back a few feet, grabbing one of his lightsabers as he rocketed back toward his opponent. The blue blade sprang to life with a loud _snap-hiss_ and Vhetin slashed at neck height with all his might, the motion sending him into a 360-degree spin. Fett hunched his shoulders and ducked, the energy blade severing his helmet's rangefinder as it passed over him.

Vhetin spun back to his opponent, feeding more fuel to his pack and shooting forward again. Fett turned and roared away into the sky, blasting clouds aside as he went.

It wasn't cowardice, but rather common sense; no man wearing duraplast Mandalorian armor could hope to stand up to the blade of a lightsaber.

Vhetin tore through the sky after Fett, his jetpack screaming as the thrust tubes glowed white-hot.

But Fett still had a few tricks up his sleeve. He suddenly cut power to his pack and twisted, flying back toward Vhetin and catching him in the faceplate with his armored forearm before reaching out and catching the back of Vhetin's rocket pack. He twisted himself and drove his knee into the pack. There was a loud, metallic _crunch_ and Vhetin cursed as his pack sputtered out.

He instantly plummeted, his heavy armor weighing him down. Wind howled past his helmet and his limbs flailed as he flipped and spun uncontrollably. He frantically threw his arms and legs out, trying to right himself as he saw the ground approaching quickly below him.

 _Come on_ , he thought as his HUD flashed _ROCKETS OFFLINE. ROCKETS OFFLINE_.

Nothing worked. Fett must have tangled up the fuel tubes when he'd punched at the jetpack. As the ground rushed up to meet him, he squeezed his eyes shut and thought, _oh_ shab _this is going to hurt_.

Then, a hundred feet above the ground, flames began struggling to spurt from his jetpack's thrust tubes. A loud stuttering _womp... womp... womp_ began to sound as the pack struggled to come online again.

_Come on... come on!_

Thirty feet above the ground, three-foot flames once again erupted from the pack's thrust tubes and he shot up into the air once more.

He didn't get far. He was just beginning to steady out when he saw an instantly recognizable green-red form plummeting out of the clouds.

As he fell towards the other hunter, Boba Fett cut out his own jetpack. He fell fast, catching Vhetin in the chest with both knees and driving them both toward the ground.

Stars exploded in Vhetin's vision as he was driven hard into the hard terrain beneath them. A fountain of earth erupted into the sky before raining down around the two hunters in a cloud of gritty dirt and rock.

In the blink of an eye, everything was silent.

Vhetin moaned and tried to sit up. He gasped and fell back to the ground, pain ripping through his entire body. His head throbbed painfully, and his breathing came in short, pained gasps.

Fett slowly stood, grabbing Vhetin by the throat and hauling him up until they were almost facemask-to-facemask. Vhetin groaned and hung limp, his vision wavering in and out of focus.

"Next time you decide to take on a class-ten bounty," Fett growled, "make sure you're prepared for the barves you're bound to run across.

Then he stepped back, out of the shallow impact crater Vhetin's fall had carved out of the ground.

"Don't play with the big boys when you know you're not ready, Stripes," he said before he triggered his jetpack and hurtled up into the sky again.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin didn't know how long he was unconscious. The sun had visibly shifted position in the sky by the time his hazy vision came into focus and the pale blue of the sky had darkened to a deep purple. He'd been out more than three hours at least.

Squeezing his eyes shut with effort, he groaned, rolled over onto his hands and knees, and crawled slowly out of the impact crater.

He pulled off his helmet and spat out a mouthful of blood onto the grass. He rested for a moment, letting the soft grass cushion his face as he gasped for air. Then, grimacing, he wiped his mouth and pulled his helmet back over his head.

"Jay," he coughed, triggering the private comm channel. "Jay, come in. Are you there?"

He was met with nothing but static and he cursed quietly.

 _Force save me_ , he thought as he staggered to his feet, holding a hand to his side. Scooping up his fallen lightsaber, he began limping toward the mansion that was little more than a speck on the horizon.

He picked up a transmitter beacon emanating from the mansion and stepped up his pace. Jay must have found something. And now with Fett gone, they could have some peace and quiet to plan their next move.

 _Maybe_ , he thought, grimacing as he limped over a small hill, _I got lucky and Jay took Tor down all by herself_.

Ten minutes later, Vhetin kicked open the rotted door inside the mansion, sweeping his rifle over the area.

“Jay?” he whispered, his voice barely audible even through his helmet’s vocoder. “You here?”

When he received no answer, he took a single step into the room, wary of a trap.

“Answer me, Jay,” he said. He was about to say more when his armored boot hit something on the ground with a quiet _chink_. He glanced down and saw a small, round beacon transmitter, a small blue light flashing rhythmically on its readout. He knelt and picked it up carefully, examining it.

 _It_ _’s one of Jay’s beacons all right_ , he thought, glancing around the messy room again as he switched it off and tucked it onto his belt. _So where is she?_

He stood and surveyed a wall that was covered in flimsi documents and holo-maps. A cursory glance showed that they all dealt with various aspects of Black Sun’s depot complex scattered throughout the plains; Vhetin even saw a map similar to the one he’d drawn earlier estimating Oppo Tor’s territory.

 _Jay must have found this after I went after Fett_ , he though, grimacing slightly as a fresh spike of pain shot through his side, as if in remembrance of the fight. _She wanted me to see all the information Tor had gathered._

_So where is she?_

He grabbed what he deemed to be the most important of the documents, tucked them on his belt, then jogged outside to where they had landed their ships earlier.

This ships were both there, but no Jay.

He stared at the plains around himself in confusion, then thought, _Well... if I can_ _’t find her by calling her, I could trace her comlink._

He pulled up his HUDs tracer systems and entered Jay’s comm number, thinking, _I just hope she left it on_.

A few seconds later, a quick-scan map of the mansion inlaid itself on his HUD and a blinking red dot appeared somewhere on the first floor. He studied the map for a moment, then headed into the mansion again.

It didn’t take long to find the hand-held comlink; it was lying in partial shadow under the slight lip of a stair. He knelt on the staircase and carefully picked it up, holding it up to the illumination cast by his rifle light.

He saw with a sinking feeling in his heart that the comlink was spattered with red blood.

 _No_ , he thought, shaking his helmeted head. _No, she can_ _’t be dead._

He scraped some of the blood onto his gauntlet scanner pad and activated it. A quick DNA scan confirmed that it was Jay’s.

He stood quickly, pocketing the comlink and turning back toward the main atrium. His face was turned down in a furious scowl as he turned his helmet’s vocoder amplifier to maximum volume and called, “Jay? _Jay!_ If you can hear me, say something!”

“ _Tor_!” he called, clenching his fists. “If you’ve hurt my partner, I’m going to rip your heart out with my bare hands!”

When there was no answer, he tipped his head back and shouted, “ _Answer me!!_ ”

But there was only silence. A board creaked loudly somewhere in the mansion.

Vhetin lowered his fists, breathing hard. Then he stormed out of the mansion, slamming the doors open as he activated his comlink again and pulled one of the maps from his belt-pouch.

“Operative Warren,” he snarled. “Come in now.”

“What the hell is your problem?” came the woman’s cross reply. “You drop out of communication for the entire day then bite my kriffing head off? I have half a mind to-”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he interjected. “My partner’s missing-in-action, Boba Fett almost killed me, and Tor is nowhere to be found.”

There was silence from Warren’s end of the comm, then she said, “So what do you want me to do?”

“Gather every Black Sun guard you can find, then wait for further orders.”

“Why?”

He spread the map in front of him as he walked. It was the map showing the satellite view of all Xizor’s supply depots. Red circles showed the expansion of Tor’s territory as he attacked each outpost.

There were five depots that hadn’t been attacked yet, and only one in the direct path of the territorial expansion. And if Tor kept increasing his claimed territory at the same rate...

He smiled grimly and said, “There’s one more outpost that’s going to be attacked. You and I are going to make sure that it’s too good an opportunity for him to pass up.”

“Wait, wait,” Warren said. “You’re going to lure him to _us_?”

“I am,” he replied. “Because when I find him again, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t escape. And when I find him, he’s going lead me to Jay.”

“And if she’s dead? What-”

He shut off the comm, heading toward the ships as the sun set behind him.

He refused to believe that Jay was dead; she had pulled through situations far tougher than this. No, Tor had captured her, kidnapped her. Everything he saw told him that she had been killed, maybe even slaughtered for food. But his heart told him that she was still alive somewhere.

And when his partner was in danger, he was willing to take a gamble based on faith.

~~~~~~~~

**One half-hour later**

Boba Fett stepped up the ramp into _Slave I_ , cursing as he tried to get feeling to return to his right arm. When he’d driven Vhetin into the ground, he’d landed on it awkwardly, twisting and straining it. Now, he clenched and unclenched his fist quickly, a furious scowl crossing his face.

His fight with Vhetin had been reckless and pointless. The Mandalorian was passionate about Fett’s betrayal, no doubt. But that was in the past, and their current rivalry over Oppo Tor’s bounty had nothing to do with that. To allow himself to be injured in such a meaningless fistfight was simply stupid on Fett’s part.

Inside the ship the lights flickered on, revealing the cramped cargo hold within. Along one wall were the cages for captured bounties, two rectangular holding cells mounted on top of a second pair.

He hit a red button on a control pad on the opposite bulkhead and tapped in a quick, four-number code. With a hiss, a long slab of durasteel slid back, revealing the weapon racks that served as the ship’s miniature armory.

He pulled off his right gauntlet, inspecting the twisted and mangled flamethrower that had been damaged when he’d landed on it. He mounted it on a set of hooks on the racks, making a mental note to repair the weapon when he completed his contract.

He unhooked an identical replacement gauntlet and slid it up his arm, hooking up the fuel intake tube that ran from his rocket pack, down his sleeve, and into the flamethrower’s housing.

Once done, he pulled off his helmet and mounted it on a set of hooks on the rack. Vhetin’s reckless-yet-dangerous lightsaber attack had severed the flag-like rangefinder, and he’d need all his gear in top form if he wanted to catch Tor before the Mandalorian bounty hunter got to him. He pulled his identical back-up helmet from the rack and slipped it over his head, his suit sealing with a quiet hiss of pressurizing air.

After he’d run through his HUD diagnostic, he grabbed his handheld blaster, slipping it into the holster on the back of his belt. He twirled the weapon around his finger as he did, a habit he’d picked up from his father as a youngling.

Four fragmentation grenades and two thermal detonators also joined his personal arsenal, disappearing into his belt-pouches. He slid the small durasteel knife with its serrated edge into its small sheath on his left hip, then grabbed a wrist-rocket attachment from the rack and hooked it onto his left gauntlet. It slid smoothly onto the mounting clips with a loud _clack._ He clipped four extra rockets into the housing on the side of the gauntlet, clapping the cover back over it.

Once done, he grabbed his blaster carbine and twenty clips of tibanna gas reloads, tucking them onto his belt.

As he turned away, clenching his fist again, he scowled deeper and thought, _Vhetin and his partner have served their purpose; they led me to Tor, drew him out into the open, and whetted his appetite for blood once more. Their usefulness has come to an end, and they_ _’re now more of a hindrance than a help._

 _If Vhetin tries to challenge me again,_ he thought as he stepped out into the night air once more, _I_ _’ll have no problems killing him_.

In fact, Fett almost looked forward to it.


	11. Hunting Alone

**Night**

Vhetin brought _Void_ , which had _Vengeance_ clamped onto its single docking ring, in for a landing near Supply Depot Twenty. The depot was tucked into a rift of a tall hill and a rockslide had partially buried the rear of the building complex. He had seen from preliminary scans of the area that part of Depot Twenty was completely buried under the rock and shale that had been torn loose from the hill by a long-forgotten earthquake.

 _Void_ 's engine wash set the grass waving like an ocean of green as the ship settled down onto its landing struts. Vhetin tapped a command into the main control console and _Vengeance_ unlatched from the docking bay, coasting down on low-power repulsors before remotely extending its own landing legs.

He still thought that Jay was alive, but he wasn't about to leave her ship in the middle of the Telosian plains. She was extremely pleased with her Skyraptor Interceptor; it was her pride and joy. He wasn't about to let it fall prey to grassland scavengers or thieves.

He saw that Warren and a large group of black-clothed beings were waiting for him. As he walked down the ramp and into the night air, Warren stepped toward him and said, "I followed all your instructions. The guards are all here and we've sent the word out that Xizor is pulling all his resources here. Tor won't be able to resist hitting the depot."

"Good. Have you set up the defenses?"

"We're in the process of setting up repeating blaster turrets now, and the majority of the guards are either digging trenches for increased cover, or securing the inside of the depot."

"Overlapping fields of fire?" Vhetin inquired.

"Of course," Warren replied.

He stepped past her, heading straight for the depot. "Show me."

She proceeded to take him on a quick tour of Depot Twenty. They had to be quick, as Tor could show up at any moment, but she was very precise with her explanation of the outpost's defenses.

"We've got four different E-Web turrets set up along the edge of the roof," she said, gesturing to the tripod-mounted weapons as they walked along the top of the depot behind them. "They're staffed by four of our best turret-qualified enforcers."

"Backup?" Vhetin asked.

"We're pairing each turret operator with a level-two sniper using a fifty caliber projectile rifle. Blasters haven't worked against Tor so far, so we're stepping up to the next level of lethality."

Vhetin nodded, satisfied. She was right; blasters had proven woefully ineffective against Tor's seemingly impenetrable skin. Vhetin doubted that projectile weapons would be much better, but it may slow Tor down enough for him to bring the Barabel down... somehow.

Warren next showed him the trenches; two deep ditches, ten meters long and a meter deep. There were seven Black Sun guards in each trench, holding spades and laser cutters to burn through pockets of hardened stone. As they looked up to inspect their visitors, Vhetin saw that there were several Weequay, a Gammorean, and a couple humans.

"Men," Warren said to them, raising a hand to call their attention to her. She gestured to Vhetin and said, "This bucket-head bounty hunter is tracking down Oppo Tor. He's run across the bastard twice already and lived to tell the tale. That means that he's in charge, and you listen to what he tells you."

"Yes ma'am," came the chorus of replies. Warren nodded, satisfied, and started walking again as they got back to work.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Vhetin said as they slowly made their way along the trenches. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"I don't have it in me," Warren replied, narrowing her eyes and keeping her gaze fixed on the ground ahead of her. "It's not confidence; it's pragmatism. You _are_ the only one here with the most live experience with Tor, so if anyone's going to die last, it's you."

She shrugged and said, "That puts you in the best position to be in charge here."

"Right," Vhetin said. "So what about the trenches?"

Warren gestured to two other human guards who were passing rifles down into the trench. "As you can see, we're stocking up now. We're going to put enough firepower down there to take down an AT-AT."

 _A walker would probably be easier to take down than Oppo Tor,_ Vhetin thought darkly as they walked.

Warren pointed to the second trench, where guards were still digging into the earth. "We're also setting up a second line to provide cover fire while the first reloads."

"Smart," Vhetin said, "but like you said, blasters aren't going to be much use against Tor."

"The second line is equipped with grenade launchers."

He glanced at her and said, "You do realize that I'm trying to take Tor alive, right?"

"Seriously?" Warren said, turning to him and resting her hands on her hips. "This guy is a walking tank. How in the hell are you going to accomplish that?"

Vhetin fished in his pocket and drew out a large needle. He double-checked the cap over the needle then shook it for emphasis.

"Know what this is?" he asked.

"No."

"This is a chemical called horatizine," Vhetin explained. "It's most commonly used by Tatooine Jawas as a ronto tranquilizer."

"Rontos are the size of a house," Warren said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. "Even if you manage to somehow stick that thing in Tor, it could kill him, or... or send him into a frenzy."

"Not quite. Trust me; I've done my research."

Warren shook her head. "Sorry, that ain't good enough. How do you know it's not going to drive him insane?"

"Horatizine is an extremely potent sedative," Vhetin said. "You're right that it would kill most beings. It would make a Wookiee's heart explode after two minutes."

"Not looking good yet for the bucket-head bounty hunter."

"But," he continued, "if Tor's heart rate is at a certain speed, it'll pump the sedative through his system quick enough to shut down his motor skills without affecting the more aggressive emotion centers of his brain."

"So..." Warren said slowly, "if you don't inject him with that crap at just the right moment, he'll do what?"

"Well, you know how Tor is responsible for killing fifteen of my fellow Mandalorians?"

"Yeah."

"He'll be... well, ten times worse than that," he admitted. "At least."

"Great," Warren sighed, rolling her eyes. "Any other good news?"

"Just keep him alive," Vhetin said. "He's the only one who knows what happened to Jay."

"You really think he's going to want to tell you?"

"Whether he wants to or not doesn't matter," he growled. "He's going to tell me where she is, or I'm going to kill him."

"I thought you said he's wanted alive."

Vhetin didn't reply; he just picked up his pace and said, "I'll take the first watch. Tor is going to show up soon, and we need to be right on top of him when he does."

But Warren quickened her own pace and fell into step next to him again. He glanced over at her and said, "What are you doing?"

"I'm the operative in charge of hunting down Tor, remember?" she said. "And I'll be damned if a Mandalorian is going to take all the glory of capturing him. I'm taking the first watch with you."

~~~~~~~~

**Midnight**

It had been hours, and there was still no sign of Tor or Fett. Vhetin was sure they would both show up before long; he would guess that Fett was somewhere out there already, watching him.

Telos' nearby sister planet was rising on the horizon, a gigantic pale blue-white orb that hung in the sky. Tiny stars flickered high above, little more than pinpoints of light against the purple-black night sky.

Some three hours earlier, when the temperature had started to drop, Warren had set up a small fire. This was partially to keep them warm and partially to further draw attention to the depot and to give Tor an even greater chance of finding them.

Vhetin sat on the edge of the depot roof, letting his feet dangle over the edge as he stared out at the Telosian plains that stretched for as far as even his helmet's visual amplifiers could see.  He had two of the armor tabs from his fallen brothers and sisters in one hand, and he turned them over and over in his palm as he waited. The flickering red lights of the tabs painted his armor with dull red highlights, adding to the flickering glow of the flames behind him.

"So..." Warren said, tossing a small twig onto the crackling fire. It popped and hissed as it hit the flame. "Just how do you know your partner is still alive?"

"I just do," he said, shrugging and not moving his gaze. "I have faith in her."

"Where did you two meet?"

"What?"

She shrugged. "She seemed pretty nice. How did she end up partnering with a bucket-head like you?"

For once, Warren's tone wasn't insulting. He glanced at her and thought, _maybe she's finally coming around. There may be hope for her yet._

He turned his gaze back to the plains and shrugged. "She had been arrested by Imperial Intelligence for some _osik_ about selling Imperial secrets. I signed on to a contract for the commander of her prison and a contact of mine asked me to free her. I did, and she decided she wanted me to teach her to be a bounty hunter."

"So you agreed? And she didn't have to pay you or anything?"

He shook his head. "She had a hint of toughness in her that made me believe she would make a good bounty hunter. So I suggested that we be partners, and... here we are."

"Well," Warren said, "here _you_ are. She could be-"

"She's _not_ dead," he said forcefully. "She's been through worse contracts than this."

"You care for her?"

He shrugged and frowned, staring distractedly at the huge planet that hung in the sky.

Did he care for Jay? He was certainly worried about her. But he had never been good at social bonds of any kind; his currently floundering relationship with Brianna was evidence enough of that.

But at the same time, he did see Jay as a close friend and as one of the few people he could trust with his life. In fact, she was the only one he actually routinely trusted.

"She's my partner," he eventually said, turning the tabs over in his hands, "And she's saved my life more than once. Of course I care for her."

"Ah."

He slowly turned too look at her and cocked his helmeted head curiously. "You sound surprised."

She shrugged and tossed another leafy twig on the fire. "A little. I thought all you Mandalorians cared about was money and blood."

"That's not true," he said. "We devote our entire lives to each other. To our brothers and sisters."

"Is that why you accepted this contract?" Warren asked, nodding to the armor tabs in his hand. "To... avenge the Mandalorians that Tor killed?"

He nodded and turned his gaze back to the plains. After a moment, he frowned and turned back to her.

"Why exactly do you hate us so much?" he asked. "What did we ever do to you?"

She stared distractedly into the flickering firelight for a long time. Eventually she sighed, rubbed her eyes, then hugged her knees to her chest. It made her look surprisingly fragile for a deadly Black Sun operative.

"Five years ago," she slowly began, "I was engaged to a Black Sun Vigo named Chenfel Jardavver. He was... an honorable man, and I loved him very much."

Vhetin said nothing, though he suspected already which direction her story was heading.

"He rose in power until he was in charge of all the operations in the Terraska system. We were both making a living, we were both happy..."

"I'm waiting for the other combat boot to drop," Vhetin observed. "You keep referring to this Vigo in past tense."

She shrugged, still staring into the fire. "Chenfel... well, he got wrapped up in a couple less-than-ethical operations. Uh, political bribery, slave trading, human smuggling... I tried talk him out of it and he admitted that he was going to shut it all down."

She sighed and continued, "But before he could put his plan into effect, he was targeted by a Mandalorian bounty hunter. Chenfel had a price on his head, and this Mando was determined to collect."

Vhetin turned and looked at her as she shook her head and said, "This Mandalorian hunted my fiancé down and shot him in the head. I didn't find out until the next day, when I saw on the Imperial HoloNet that a wanted Black Sun Vigo had been murdered and that a Mandalorian was taking responsibility for the hit."

She narrowed her eyes and said, "One of your 'brothers' killed my future husband and was _paid_ for it. He made a _living_ off of killing him."

She looked up and met Vhetin's gaze. Her green eyes were full of a mixture of sadness and an obviously long-lasting rage.

"I've never forgiven bounty hunters in general," she said, "and Mandalorians in particular."

He held her gaze until she looked back at the fire. He continued to stare at her, then said, "I wish I could change your mind. Our entire society can't be held responsible for the actions of a single rogue bounty hunter."

"I didn't say it wasn't racist," she shrugged. "But I'm not apologizing either."

He looked out at the plains again, letting out a long breath.

It was true that many bounty hunters and Mandalorians did not share the strict — if slightly ruthless —code of honor embraced by hunters like Vhetin or Boba Fett. Many would do anything or everything for money, no matter what they were ordered to do. Beings like Durge were bloodthirsty monsters, in it for the blood and violence that would leave an ocean of innocent blood behind them.

But at the same time, there were many bounty hunters and Mandalorians who _did_ , beings who gave their blood, sweat, and tears in order to bring corrupt and evil beings to justice. The Imperial Records file detailing Vhetin's service with the Empire reported that he had gone through two complete mental breakdowns before the end of his service, and Boba Fett was widely considered to be little more than a living machine: cold, cruel, and emotionless.

He sighed and shook his head, then said, "I'm going to check in with the border patrols; they're two minutes late for their report."

"Go ahead," Warren said, tossing another twig on the fire. "I'm going to catch some sleep here before too long."

He activated his comm and said, "Patrol Group Two, check in. You're late for your report."

There was no answer, so he clicked his comm button once — a signal to respond immediately — and repeated, "Patrol Group Two. Respond immediately."

Again, there was no answer, and Vhetin slowly got to his feet. Warren glanced at him and cocked her head slightly, watching as he grabbed his DC-17 rifle from the roof nearby.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"Patrol Two isn't responding," Vhetin said. "It's probably just a faulty signal receiver. I'll be back in a few minutes."

And with that, he simply stepped off the roof and plummeted to the ground far below. He landed neatly and set off in PG2's last transmitted location.

Ten minutes later, Vhetin was kneeling next to the limp body of one of Patrol Group 2's guards, a Twi'lek male with green-hued skin and a blaster pistol hanging limp in one cold hand. He rolled the guard over, checking him for obvious wounds. Sure enough, there was a still-smoking blaster hole in his chest.

The rest of the patrol group's troops were scattered across the area, all showing signs of struggle. Dark blood stained the grass underfoot and there were smoldering blaster burns in nearby rocks and ground.

He narrowed his eyes, reconstructing the fight in his mind's eye. The guards had come under attack quickly and had fallen into disarray. That had only helped their attacker to bring them all down, then he'd simply moved on.

Vhetin stood and surveyed the rest of PG2's troops, then activated his comm.

"Warren, come in," he said. "I've found what's left of Pee-Gee-Two."

"And?"

"They're all dead."

Warren hesitated, then asked, "Any idea who slotted them?"

He knelt next to the Twi'lek again and murmured, "I don't know. But I'm going to find out."

He pulled off his right glove and placed it on the Twi'lek's forehead. He took a deep breath and thought, _Here goes nothing._ Shab _I hate reading stuff off of dead people._

Then he closed his eyes and concentrated. He felt a slight tingling in his fingertips, then he grimaced as his head began to pound with a throbbing pain right behind his eyes.

With a frown, he once again imagined his consciousness flowing through his body, down his arm, and into the man's body. He gasped as his vision blacked out, and he heard a loud rushing noise in his ears, like the roaring of a huge waterfall.

A flash of blinding white light exploded through his mind's eye, making him flinch but not remove his hand from the Twi'lek's forehead.

Another blaze of white light flashed through his mind, now followed by the image of the area where Vhetin now knelt.

_He could see it as clearly as if he'd simply opened his eyes. There was a slight ridge to his left, about five meters high, and several dark granite rocks were protruding from the grass._

_The guards of Patrol Group 2 were still alive, gathered around a small campfire much like the one Warren had set up on the depot roof. There were two humans, and a Weequay. Vhetin himself saw everything through the eyes of the Twi'lek, since it was the being's memory. Vhetin was just an observer, but it felt as if he were standing right there._

_He could see their mouths moving, but couldn't hear anything. Their voices slowly faded in, echoing as if from down a long tunnel._

_"Fierfek, it's cold out here," the Weequay growled, rubbing his leathery hands together. "You'd think that if we were wanting to draw attention to ourselves, that bitch Warren would let us build a bigger fire."_

_Vhetin, who was standing near one of the tall rocks and staring out into the dark plain, turned his head slightly and spoke in the Twi_ _’lek‘s voice. "Quiet."_

_One of the humans, a dark-skinned man with black hair and a large rotary blaster, stepped up next to him and whispered, "What is it, sir?"_

_He narrowed his green eyes and murmured, "There's someone out there. I can smell him."_

_The Weequay chuckled and said, "Ah, don't be so melodramatic. You may be a good tracker, but you can't_ smell _people."_

_Vhetin narrowed his eyes even more, but said nothing. He tightened his grip on a long-handled vibrosword sheathed on his belt and sniffed at the air. A cool breeze was flowing through the area, and the night air felt good on his skin._

_He looked around at the plains, listening to the distant call of a nocturnal prairie bird._

_Something is out there, he thought. He couldn't put his finger on what, but something was wrong. Something was... off._

_The Weequay grunted and rubbed his hands together again. "Better check in with that Mandalorian. He said he wants check-ins every fifteen minutes."_

_One of the human troops nodded and pulled his comlink from a pouch on his belt. He was about to dial in a calling code when Vhetin reached out an arm — feeling a slight sense of surprise as he saw it was green-skinned — and grasped the man's forearm._

_"Wait," he murmured. He stepped forward, frowning and drawing his vibrosword in a smooth movement._

_A small clatter broke the silence as a small shower of rocks skittered down the ridge in front of them. Every member of the group looked up, some drawing their weapons._

_“What was that?” the Weequay growled, slowly getting to his feet. “A cannok?”_

_A bright red blaster bolt flashed out of the darkness and struck him in the chest. The alien staggered backward, tripped over a crate, and fell onto his back, expiring with a raspy cough._

_“Ambush!” Vhetin shouted, ducking behind one of the rocks. “Get to cover!”_

_One of the humans tripped and died as no less than five blaster bolts tore through his chest. The remaining human, the one who_ _’d spoken to the Twi’lek before, ducked behind a nearby rock as well and hefted a short-stocked blaster rifle._

_“What the hell is that thing?” he panted._

_Vhetin shook his head, feeling his lekku slap against his neck as he did._ _“I don’t know. But whatever it is-”_

_The loud roar of a jetpack cut him off, and a flash of flames drew his attention back toward the ridge._

_With a spout of flame, a dark figure hurtled up and over the ridge, landing in the makeshift camp. Vhetin tightened his grip on his vibrosword, heart pounding, but didn_ _’t move. He risked peeking around the rock, careful not to draw attention to himself._

_The dark figure slowly surveyed the two dead guards, prodding them with the tip of his boot. He shot each one once in the head, then turned toward the collection of standing stones where Vhetin and the other guard were taking shelter._

_Vhetin moved back behind the rock and took a deep breath, raising his vibrosword. A heavy bootstep sounded nearby, muffled by the grass upon which the attacker tread._

_He looked around the other end of the rock and saw the other human guard, back pressed up against a rock as he clutched at his rifle and trembled violently._

_Vhetin raised a hand, palm-down, a motion that translated to, 'calm down and stay quiet.'_

_The young man stared at him with wide eyes, then nodded and tightened his grip on his rifle._

_Vhetin heard another heavy bootstep, closer this time. He closed his eyes and offered a prayer to the gods of Ryloth before tensing and readying himself to strike. He counted to three, then threw himself around the rock._

_He was met with only silence; no ringing_ snap _of blaster bolts, no shout of surprise or anger, no dark armored figure. Just the still camp and the corpses of half of his four-man patrol group._

 _He narrowed his eyes and was about to call to the human guard when he heard two silenced blaster shots. There was a loud_ clang _, quickly followed by sounds of struggle._

_Vhetin began running toward the sounds of the fight, around a large semi-cylindrical rock. But before he could reach the young human, he heard a grunt of pain and the man_ _’s voice cried, “Please don’t! Don’t kill me! Don’t-”_

_His voice was cut off by the loud_ pow _of a close-range blaster shot, followed by the muffled thump of a body falling to the ground._

_Vhetin charged around the rock, vibrosword held high for a killing stroke. He saw the armored figure before him, standing over the still-smoking body of the human, and he brought the sword down as hard as he could._

_The man seemed to anticipate the blow, because he spun and caught Vhetin by the wrist, stopping the vicious downstroke._

_Vhetin caught a glimpse of a battered green and red helmet with a sinister-looking T-visor before the man wrenched Vhetin_ _’s wrist off to one side, twisting him around until he had his back to the man, his arm twisted behind his back._

_Vhetin shouted in pain and cried,_ _“Who_ are _you?!_ _”_

_A deafening blaster shot rang through the night, and Vhetin_ _’s eyes stretched wide as fire exploded through his chest. He looked down with watering eyes and saw a smoking hole in his chest._

_As the man released him and he fell to his knees, he heard the man whisper,_ _“I’m the least of your worries now.”_

_Vhetin sprawled into the dirt, his vision slowly fading_. _His fingers twitched once, then were still_.

Another blinding flash of white light and the rushing sound in his ears suddenly ceased as he fell back, scrambling away from the body of the Twi’lek in blind panic. His back hit one of the standing stones, and he rested his weight against it, breathing hard as the heat that blazed inside his head slowly dissipated and the blue light that poured from his eyes faded with it.

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to banish the image he’d seen through the dying Twi’lek’s eyes, as if the sight of the being’s last moments were burned into his retinas.

 _Calm_ , he thought to himself. _It didn_ _’t happen to you. It didn’t... you’re still alive_.

Then he put his helmeted head between his hands and screamed at the top of his lungs. His helmet’s audio comm was turned off so no noise escaped from the confines of his helmet, but the sound echoed in Vhetin’s head, making his ears ring as if an explosion had gone off nearby.

It took him almost five minutes to get himself under control. When he failed to check back in, his comm activated with a crackle of static and Warren’s voice said, “Bucket-head? You there? What’s going on? What happened to Patrol Group Two?”

He was still panting as he activated his own comm and gasped, “They’re dead. All of them. Murdered.”

“Is it Tor?”

Vhetin shook his head, letting his head hit the rock behind him and sighing, “Worse.”


	12. It's a Trap!

Fett settled into a new sniper position on the top of the ridge - now located safely away from the prying eyes of any nearby patrol groups - and shouldered his rifle.

The plains were still and quiet, as if the entire world was holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come next. Fett didn’t like the silence; it made him uneasy and made him feel as if he was being watched.

Adrenaline was still coursing through his system from the encounter with the troopers of the patrol group, even though they had posed little problem. His tension didn’t come from any kind of nervousness at his enemy’s number or firepower. It was because this hunt was almost over, and any slip-ups now would be catastrophic.

His discovery at the hands of the patrol group was unexpected, but not altogether unrewarding. Now that Vhetin had figured out that one of the patrols had been neutralized, he would put all his forces to the task of finding their attacker. He would probably assume that it was Tor, moving about and trying to split his soldiers up as he’d done with the Mandalorians he’d killed two weeks before.

But Fett wasn’t moving. And now that he had a good sniper position with a view of virtually the entire depot, that wasn’t likely to change.

Unless of course Tor decided to show his ugly reptilian hide. But he’d deal with that eventuality when it actually became a problem.

Vhetin himself was proving to be a major irritation; Fett even considered taking him out, sighting in on the Mandalorian as he jogged back toward the depot to report the slaughter of the patrol group.

The man was a good bounty hunter, there was no denying that. But that didn’t mean that he was better than Fett and it definitely didn’t mean he was invincible.

He absently wondered where Vhetin’s new partner had gone; he hadn’t seen her since the fight at the mansion. Tactically, it would be a good move to have her drop out of sight and lay low, watching for any potential dangers. That sounded like Vhetin’s style.

Again, he turned his attention to his surroundings; if she was out there somewhere, she wouldn't’ escape his notice for long. But he heard nothing; no wind, no nocturnal birds calling to each other, no soldiers talking quietly in the distance. The night was perfectly silent.

 _Wait_... _something isn_ _’t-_

His HUD blared a hostile contact before he could finish the thought. Instinct kicked in and he rolled to one side, just as a huge durasteel blade plunged into the ground he had occupied moments before.

He cursed and dropped his sniper rifle, somersaulting away as Tor yanked the huge blade out of the ground and swung it at him again.

Fett came to his feet again, slipping his long vibroblade out of its sheath and flexing his gloved grip around the contoured handle. Tor fell back and snarled at him, lashing his tail.

Fett could now see that Tor was wielding some kind of high-powered blaster rifle with a meter-and-a-half-long vibrosword in his other clawed hand.

The Barabel narrowed his golden eyes and snarled, " _You_... you are one of the hunterz trying to kill me."

Fett chuckled and flipped his vibroblade skillfully between his fingers. "Don't flatter yourself; you're not important enough to be wanted dead. I'm here to take you in alive."

"You will _not_ zucceed," Tor snapped, then charged forward, raising his weapon.

Fett ducked the Barabel's powerful blow and slashed his own hand-length blade across Tor's armored stomach. The sharp cortosis vibroblade cut deep and dark blood spattered across Fett's visor.

Tor let out a bellow and backhanded Fett across the helmet, sending him crashing back against a nearby boulder. He crumpled forward, onto his hands and knees, as Tor stomped forward and raised his sword for a killing blow.

Fett rolled onto his back and kicked up with both boot heels, catching Tor in the chin. The Barabel staggered back as Fett scrambled back to his feet and grabbed his carbine from the ground next to him. He quickly changed the intensity setting to stun and raised the weapon. As Tor's gaze snapped back to him, he pulled the trigger. Blue-white rings exploded from the barrel, hitting Tor in the chest and stomach and lightning crackled along his body.

Tor twitched and groaned as electricity coursed through his system, but raised his rifle and pulled the trigger. Fett dived out of the way as the boulder behind him exploded. He came back to his feet and lashed out with a roundhouse kick that caught Tor in the snout. The twin metal studs on the toes of his boots dug into the Barabel’s thick skin, drawing more blood.

Fett regained his balance, then stepped forward and drove his fist into Tor’s throat, followed by a knee-kick to the gut that made the huge reptilioid double up. Fett pressed the barrel of his carbine against Tor’s forehead and pulled the firing stud, hitting him at point-blank with another stun bolt. The power of the bolt sent him crashing onto his back.

Tor clenched his fists and roared, lumbering to his feet again. Before Fett could pull the firing stud again, the Barabel charged forward and slammed into him, carrying them both off the edge of the ridge. They rolled down the edge of the ridge in a shower of loose stones and shale before crashing to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Tor wrenched himself free, managing to headbutt Fett in the helmet.

Fett cursed and struggled to his feet, grabbing his carbine and hitting Tor with another stun round. The Barabel staggered, but grabbed his vibrosword from the ground and swung it over his head, preparing for a downward stroke that would probably cleave Fett in half.

As the sword descended, Fett sidestepped and kicked out an armored boot at Tor's wrist. The Barabel snarled in frustration as the sword was knocked out of his hand. It fell to the ground with a loud _clang_ a meter away.

He didn't slow down; he just spun and lashed out with his armored tail. Fett anticipated this move, having failed to avoid it back at the mansion, and hopped back, out of the way. He pulled the firing stud on his rifle again and hit Tor with another blue-white stun bolt.

Tor fell to his knees, panting heavily. His tail thumped against the ground weakly and his golden eyes watered. Fett stepped forward, pulling a pair of heavy-duty stun cuffs from his belt as he hit the Barabel with another stun round.

Tor weakly tried to swing a massive fist at Fett, but the bounty hunter easily leaned out of the way and hit him with yet another stun bolt. Tor crumpled to the dirt, wheezing as his tail twitched erratically.

"Give it up, Tor," he growled. "It's over."

"It iz _not_ over," the Barabel hissed. "I will not allow myzelf to be taken in by zuch weak hunterz."

"Lie on the ground, hands behind your head, and I won't be forced to-"

With a shout, the black-armored form of Cin Vhetin front-flipped over a nearby rock. The short blue blade of his lightsaber pike ignited with a _snap-hiss_ , lighting up the darkness with its neon glow. The energy weapon sliced Fett's blaster carbine in half as Vhetin landed between Fett and Tor, spinning the shaft of the pike between his hands and bringing the blade to bear on Fett.

"I told you that this was _my bounty_ ," the Mandalorian snarled, tightening his grip on the shaft of his weapon. "I told you to stay away."

Fett sighed and calmly tossed his useless carbine away before scooping up his cortosis vibroblade from the ground. He passed it from hand to hand as he said, "I didn't become the best bounty hunter in the trade by listening to the weak threats of younger, lesser hunters."

Vhetin raised the blade of his weapon threateningly, the blue blade illuminating sections of his sinister battle helmet. "Don't make me kill you."

Fett scowled behind his own helmet. "I'd like to see you try."

And with that, Fett darted forward, lashing out with his vibroblade. It hit Vhetin’s blue lightsaber blade with a shower of sparks, driving it off to one side. Vhetin swiftly spun with the blade, coming around at Fett again. Fett brought his hand-length vibroblade up and blocked the blow, pushing against the blade with effort.

“Don’t try and fight,” Vhetin grunted, pushing against the lock as well. “Swordplay was never your strong suit, you know that.”

Fett responded with a headbutt, bashing their helmets together with a loud _clang_. Vhetin cursed and staggered back as Fett flipped the knife around and threw it with all his might. The blade whistled through the dark, spinning end over end. Vhetin shouted in pain as the blade sunk into his leg, slipping past his thigh plate and burying itself up to the hilt. He fell to his knees, grasping the handle with a curse.

Fett stepped forward again, saying, “And thinking things through was never your strong suit. There’s a reason I’m the best in the business.”

Vhetin groaned as he pulled the blade from his leg with a wet squelch. He put a hand on the wound to stem the bleeding as he panted, “I’m... not... going to warn you... again. Back off.”

Fett laughed, his first real laugh in a long time. “Your last warning? You’re in no condition to _move_ , let alone fight.”

“I’m... disappointed in you, Fett,” Vhetin said. “Working away from the ICF... has obviously... made you soft. You would have never underestimated an enemy... back then.”

Vhetin erupted into a blur of motion, his black armor blending in with the darkness around them. Fett cursed and switched his rifle back to lethal power before opening up, spraying the area with bright red blaster bolts.

Vhetin ducked as bolts flashed over his head, then came at Fett, elbowing him in the chest before slashing at his arms.

Fett shouted in pain and anger as Vhetin landed three shallow cuts to his arms. Blood began flowing down his arms, the slices in his skin like foot-long paper cuts. Vhetin dashed at him again, raising the blade for a slash to the throat, but Fett raised his gauntlet and deflected the blow. In the blink of an eye, he reached out, caught Vhetin by the wrist and twisted his arm around behind his back. The black-armored Mandalorian cried out in pain as Fett planted a boot in the small of his back and sent him sprawling into the dirt, making sure to wrestle the vibroblade from his grip.

As Vhetin lay in the dirt, panting as he struggled to rise to his hands and knees, Fett slowly reached down and pulled his field pistol from his belt. With a flick of his wrist he switched the safety off, sheathing the vibroblade with his other hand.

With a groan, Vhetin rolled over onto his back, clenching his fists in pain and staring up at the dark sky. He gathered enough strength to crawl back and put his back up against a rock so he was in a half-sitting position, weakly reaching out for his fallen saber pike. Before he could reach it Fett kicked the weapon, sending it rolling away into the darkness.

Vhetin visibly slumped in defeat as Fett took another step forward, raising the blaster.

"It's nothing personal, Vhetin," he said. "But you're standing in the way of me and my bounty."

The pistol let out a high-pitched whine as it charged up, preparing to fire. Fett's face was as impassive and emotionless as the faceplate of his visor as he pressed the barrel under Vhetin's chin — one of the few weak spots on a Mando's armor.

"I warned you," he murmured to the Mandalorian. "Now you have to face the consequences."

Then, Vhetin let out a weak chuckle. Fett hesitated, his finger hovering over the firing stud as Vhetin pointed and said, "You should pay better attention; your bounty isn't there any more."

 _What?_ Fett thought, frowning in confusion as he slowly turned in the direction Vhetin was pointing. _What the hell is he talking about?_

He caught a glimpse of a dark circle of stones and a patch of matted grass and had time to think, _Tor. He's gone._

Then a huge weight slammed into his chest, sending him flying through the air and crashing into the side of the ridge.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin coughed and held a hand to his side as he struggled to his feet. Fett flew past him, slamming hard into the ridge behind him and collapsing in a pile of rock chips and loose shale.

Tor beat his chest with one fist and let out an enraged roar. As he moved forward to finish Fett off, Vhetin dove for his saber pike, lying a meter away. He scooped it up and ignited it with a flourish before turning back to Tor and Fett.

The Barabel was holding Fett a half-meter above the ground, grasping him by his throat as he repeatedly punched him in the face and stomach. Fett was hanging limply in his grip, either unconscious or dead. Vhetin found himself hoping it was the latter.

"Tor!" he shouted, tightening his grip on the shaft of his pike as he used his other hand to draw a pistol from his belt. "Hands on your head!"

Tor's golden gaze snapped to him and he let out a low snarl before cocking his arm back and throwing Fett bodily through the air. Vhetin tried to dodge out of the way but was slowed down by the wound in his leg. Fett crashed into him, sending them both toppling to the ground.

Tor bellowed triumphantly and stomped forward, pulling his vibrosword from where it was stuck point-first in the ground. Its humming purple blade activated with a sizzle, sparks falling from the vibrating edge.

Vhetin struggled out from under Fett's limp body and raised the shaft of his pike just in time to block Tor's unbelievably powerful blow.

But Tor was strong and fast; he backhanded Vhetin across the helmet while their weapons were still pressed together. The blow knocked Vhetin onto his back again, and he groaned as a new spike of pain ripped through his leg.

He raised his arm and squeezed off five lethal blaster bolts that hit Tor in the chest. He leaned into the shots and swung his vibrosword up over his head, preparing for a killing blow.

Vhetin cursed and tossed the pistol aside, raising his pike horizontally between both hands. There was a loud _clang_ as the meter-and-a-half-long sword smashed against the _beskar_ pike shaft. Sparks lit up the darkness, dancing in the air for a moment before falling and skittering across the face of Vhetin's helmet.

His comm suddenly sputtered to life and Warren's irate voice snapped, "What the hell is going on? Are those blaster shots?"

He grunted and snapped, "Get your men down here!"

"What's going on?"

Tor leaned forward and roared in Vhetin's face. Thin strands of spittle dripped down onto Vhetin's visor as the Barabel put all his weight on his sword. The humming blade slowly began to descend toward his face, and he grunted, "I'm a little too... busy to explain. Just send everyone down here and... tell them to set their weapons for stun!"

The purple vibrosword blade was only centimeters from Vhetin's faceplate when the green-red armored form of Fett leaped up from behind Tor and caught him in a headlock.

Tor dropped his weapon, the blade deactivating with a loud _snap_ , and flailed his arms, frantically trying to dislodge his ambusher. He hissed and snarled, raking at Fett's helmet with his talons.

Fett grasped at Tor's head, one hand on his snout and an arm wrapped around his neck. As Tor spun and attempted to shake Fett off, the bounty hunter dug the edge of his gauntlet into Tor's neck.

Vhetin heard a loud _pop_ , then lightning arced from the gauntlet, crackling up and down Tor's arms and neck. The Barabel screamed and slammed Fett against the face of a large boulder.

Fett was tough, but he couldn't withstand the full weight of a male Barabel smashing him against a rock wall. He lost his hold and crumpled to the ground again. He tried to rise once, fell, and didn't move again.

Vhetin saw his opening and rushed forward, stabbing with his pike. Tor saw him approaching and stumbled back just in time; Vhetin's saber blade sunk to the hilt into the rock.

Tor turned and lumbered off into the darkness as Vhetin yanked the pike out of the rock. Fett — who was lying at Vhetin's feet — coughed and shakily tried to push himself onto his hands and knees.

"Having trouble, _ner vod_?" Vhetin panted.

Fett shook his helmeted head and spat, "Shut up you kriffing idiot. I've never failed to fulfill a contract in the past."

He fell back, letting his back thump against the rock, and sighed, "Besides, he got away again."

"Well, you know what they say," Vhetin said, glancing in the direction where Tor had disappeared, "finders keepers."

Then he jogged after the Barabel, heading toward the depot and leaving Fett to stagger to his feet and slowly limp after him. After a few moments, he was lost in the darkness.

Vhetin sprinted in the direction Tor had disappeared, the pain in his leg barely slowing him down now.

He was not going to let the big lizard get away now; if he did, Vhetin would have no way of finding out what happened to Jay. And he would _not_ allow that to happen.

As he sprinted in the direction of the depot, he spotted Warren jogging up to him, a long duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

"Hey," she said, hesitating as she saw him tearing through the darkness. "What the hell-"

"Back-up plan!" he shouted.

"What?"

" _Back-up plan_!" he repeated, holding out his arms. Warren pulled the duffel from over her shoulder and tossed it to him. He caught it without breaking stride and slung it over his own shoulder. When he reached the depot, he jumped from rock to rock up the side of the ridge until he landed squarely on the roof.

The Black Sun guards were in chaos, running about and shouting orders to lock down the depot perimeter. A squad of troops were sprinting toward the perimeter fence control mounted on the depot wall, hoping to activate it and electrify the fence before Tor could make it to the fence.

They weren't going to make it in time; Vhetin was able to see Tor's huge, hulking form as the Barabel lumbered through the rocks scattered around the depot.

He didn't have much time. He knelt on the roof, unzipping the duffel and pulling out an angular compound bow and a quiver of arrows.

A small smile flashed across his face as he thought, _Thank_ te Manda _Brianna taught me how to shoot one of these_.

He slung the arrows over his shoulder as he stepped up to the very edge of the depot roof. He pulled one of the projectiles from the quiver, hooked it to the string of the bow, and drew back. His helmet's rangefinder swung down, targeting the center of Tor's back. Vhetin tensed as he fought to keep the small targeting reticule on his fleeing target. Then, when the small circle flashed red, he released the arrow.

The arrow whistled through the still night air before hitting Tor in the shoulder. The arrowhead slipped past his armored scales and piercing his thick skin.

It still didn't slow him down, so Vhetin cursed and pulled another arrow. As Tor placed a single huge hand on the fence, preparing to scramble up and over, he fired another arrow.

The missile flew straight and true, slamming into Tor's back with a dull _thwack_. The reptilioid alien bellowed in pain and surprise and fell onto his back, writhing as he tried to grasp at the arrow shaft.

" _Oya_!" Vhetin shouted, punching a fist in the air. Then he hopped off the depot roof and sprinted forward, toward Tor's supine form. He nocked another arrow as he ran, drawing the bowstring back and aiming squarely at Tor's head as he got closer.

But the Barabel was wheezing and twitching on the ground as Vhetin approached. He looked up at the bounty hunter with streaming eyes and panted, "So... you are another hunter who seekz to claim thiz one as hiz trophy."

Vhetin shook his head, slowly lowering the bow. "I don't care about the bounty at this point. Fett could swoop in now and spirit you away for all I care."

Tor narrowed his eyes in confusion and he wheezed, "What... what do you mean?"

He set the bow aside as he knelt next to Tor and drew his vibroblade from his belt. He pressed the blade against the Barabel's scaly throat, his finger hovering over the activation stud that would bring the dagger's vibrating edge to life.

"My partner," he growled. "Where is she?"

"Thiz one..." Tor panted, blinking rapidly. "Thiz one doesn't know what you are-"

" _Don't_ give me that!" he snapped, pressing the blade so hard against Tor's throat that dark blood began to drip off the blade. "I know that she's still alive and that you're keeping her hostage."

"She..." Tor coughed, then growled, "she is dead. Her fragile, puny body could not withstand thiz one'z attack."

Vhetin's heart went cold, his eyes slowly widening and his knife blade slowly falling.

No. It couldn't be true. Jay was his trainee, the one person he trusted to watch his back. She couldn't be...

While he was struggling with Tor's revelation, the Barabel was slowly clambering to his feet, snapping the arrow shafts off his muscular shoulders. He looked up at the alien that was now towering over him and shook his helmeted head.

"You're lying."

"Thiz one has never come across an opponent thiz one has not overcome," Tor snarled. "Thiz one's mansion is a mausoleum of fallen enemiez. Your partner has joined their rankz."

Vhetin raised the vibroblade again and shouted, "You're lying!"

The next moment was a blur; Tor opened his mouth and released a loud _pak_ sound. A slimy gray-green slime spattered across Vhetin's faceplate, obstructing his vision. He let out a shout of surprise and stumbled back, trying to get the sticky goo off his helmet, but Tor took advantage of his momentary distraction to spin and slam his tail across the bounty hunter's chest.

He went flying through the air, crashing into a nearby rock and toppling over it onto the ground. He cursed and shook his head, frantically trying to pull the viscous goo off his faceplate before Tor could finish the job.

But the Barabel had other plans; he turned and leaped up onto the fence, scaling it with unnatural speed, before leaping over the top and landing heavily on the other side, all in a matter of moments. Once safely out of Vhetin's reach, he turned and glared back at Vhetin, who was struggling back to his feet as he finally pulled the gooey slime off his helmet.

"You would do well to forget thiz hunt," he growled. "Leave the dead behind you and continue your huntz elsewhere."

Vhetin coughed and staggered to his feet. He scooped up the bow from the ground and nocked another arrow. Tor turned and disappeared into the night, and the arrow that Vhetin shot through the fence whistled off into the night.

Vhetin hurled the bow to the ground and let out a shout of rage.

" _Damn it_!" he shouted as Warren and a squad of Black Sun guards came jogging into sight.

"What happened?" Warren demanded as the troops fanned out to re-establish the depot perimeter. She saw the green splatter marks across his faceplate and wrinkled her nose before adding, "And what in the name of the Force is _that_?"

He rounded on her and shouted, "Late again! Where the hell were you?"

"Securing Fett," Warren said, looking slightly taken aback by his ferocity. "What's got your durasteel britches in a bunch?"

"Did you catch him?" Vhetin demanded, pushing past her and heading straight for where _Void_ had landed. Warren glanced at the other guards, then motioned for them to continue their perimeter sweep.

"Did you catch him?" Vhetin repeated as Warren fell into step next to him.

"No..." she said slowly. "He overpowered our troops and blasted off on that fancy jetpack of his."

" _Damn_ it!" he shouted again, slamming his fist on a nearby boulder as he passed. "Why am I not surprised? You can't do anything right you worthless Black Sun _utreekov!_ "

"Hey," she said defensively. "Tor got away on _your_ watch, bucket-head. If I'm worthless, I'm not the only one. What's got you so bitchy all of a sudden?"

He shook his head, scowling darkly as he muttered, "Why shouldn't I be? My partner's missing in action, and I have to find her before Tor gets to her."

"Find her?" Warren repeated. "You don't even know if she's alive."

"Don't get into that again," he snapped. "I know she's alive."

"Even if she is, she's _disappeared_."

"She hasn't disappeared," Vhetin said. "She's out there somewhere, and I think I know where to find her."

"Where?"

He narrowed his eyes as he triggered _Void_ 's exit ramp to lower itself to the ground below.  He looked down and the gray-green slime on his hands, rubbing it between two fingers.

"Where this whole mess started," he growled. "Tor's mansion."


	13. Reunion

Half an hour later, Vhetin was once again standing in the dusty vestibule of the run-down mansion, holding his personal GL-99 blaster rifle in a battle-ready position.

"Tor!" he shouted, scanning around the area with his helmet's rangefinder. The scan came back with nothing; no cannoks, no Tor, and no Jay.

"Jay!" he shouted, taking a cautious step inside. "I know you're here somewhere! If you can hear me, shout or something!"

He slowly stepped up the stairs, the wood creaking under his feet and dust puffing up from under his boots. He clicked on his rifle light and let it roam over the entire room.

"Come on, Jay," he called. "Make some noise!"

There was only silence, and it made Vhetin's heart sink.

 _What if Tor wasn't lying_? he thought. _What if she is dead?_

He shook his head and said, "No. Even if she is, I'm not leaving without a body."

He reached the top floor and looked around with a sigh. The entire mansion was still and silent, showing no signs of life. He slowly eased himself into a sitting position on the top step, careful not to strain the hastily-bandaged wound in his leg from Fett's vibroblade. He scowled and looked around the dark foyer, thinking, _there has to be something around here. Something I missed_...

He cursed and wiped his faceplate with the back of his glove again. The gray-green slime that Tor had spat at him still clung to the metal with irritating tenacity. He flexed his fingers, grimacing in disgust as thin tendrils of the stuff stretched between his fingers.

 _This is karking disgusting_ , he thought as he tried to shake the slime off his gloves. _Reminds me of..._

He stopped, staring at his stained gloves, narrowing his eyes and thinking, _no... no, it couldn't be. It was right in front of my face!_

His mind flashed back to when he and Jay had visited the mansion earlier. While they'd been working on clearing the first floor, he had entered a room where cannoks had created a slimy nest.

At least he'd assumed it had been cannoks. As he stared at the slime on his gloves, the pieces finally clicked into place.

 _Tor is using this place as his hideout,_ he thought, getting to his feet and heading down the stairs again, _but we didn't find anything but a room full of a few maps; no food, no weapons, nothing._

As he kicked open the door. The foul-smelling glop still covered the floor, clinging to the soles of his boots exactly like the slime had stuck to his helmet. He knelt down and touched the puddle with his gloved fingertips. Sticky tendrils of the stuff came away on his fingers as he pulled back.

 _It_ _’s the same stuff,_   he thought, narrowing his eyes. _And that means Tor made this_. _Why would he spray this gunk all over a room for no reason?_

He cautiously poked the center of the gooey mess. It was surprisingly strong, and the seemingly flimsy slime refused to even shift under his weight. He stepped back as he slowly unhooked his saber pike from the clips on his jetpack.

 _It could just be the floor underneath that I felt,_ he thought.

But there was also the possibility that this was something else. Several reptilian species were known to use bodily secretions to build their nests. With time, the fluid hardened until it was almost as strong as duraplast. And if that was what this slimy substance was, that meant there was something under the gray-green mess that covered the floor.

He activated his saber pike and plunged the glowing blue blade into the floor. Sparks flew as the lightsaber made contact with the slime, lighting up the room as he slowly drew the blade in a rough circle. It took a few moments, as the slime resisted the lightsaber blade, but he eventually had cut a meter-wide circle in the floor. He took a deep breath, deactivated his saber, and kicked at his newly-cut entrance portal.

With a crash, the wood gave way, falling down into a dark void below. A blast of sickly-sweet warm air came rushing up out of the darkness with enough force to make his _kama_ flutter. He stepped back, half-expecting a meter and a half of angry Barabel to come charging up out of the hole.

But nothing happened; no sound came up from the hole except the hollow whistle of the outside breeze blowing through cracks in the wood below.

He took a deep breath as he stepped forward, scanning the inside. It looked like there was another series of rooms down there.

 _Okay,_ he thought to himself. _Here I go_.

Then he stepped forward and plummeted down into darkness. He fell for longer than he anticipated, and was driven to his knees when he finally hit the floor. After regaining his balance he looked up, examine his surroundings and breathing hard as he put too much weight on his wounded leg.

He couldn’t see anything beyond a shaft of green-tinged light that streamed down from the hole he’d created in the floor/ceiling high above him. His HUD systems went into night vision mode, but even the visual enhancements could not cut through the gloom.

The same nauseatingly sweet stench wafted past him on a warm breeze that he could feel even through his combat suit. His helmet’s scent filters struggled to clean the air but the smell penetrated his helmet anyway, making him gag slightly.

He straightened, remaining in a cautious combat stance as he pulled his saber-pike from his jetpack and ignited the blade. The blue light allowed him to see a meter or so ahead of him; not enough to see exactly where he was, but enough for him to make his way through the area.

He boosted his helmet’s vocoder strength and called, “Jay? Jay, where are you?”

His voice echoed distantly through the pitch black, reverberating back and forth until he could only hear a whisper of _Jay...Jay..._

Then a reptilian roar shattered the silence, echoing like his voice before fading away into oblivion.

Vhetin cocked his head, letting his helmet’s audio receptors catch the sound and estimate an estimate of its point of origin. After a moment, his HUD told him that the sound had originated from a point some three hundred meters to the southeast.

 _If Tor is here,_ he thought to himself as he set off in that direction, _that means he_ _’s trying to tie up any loose ends. And that means that he’s going to lead me right to Jay._

He shook his head and thought, _Jay, if you_ _’re still alive, I’m coming_. _Hold on._

~~~~~~~~

 

A voice in the darkness. Someone was shouting.

No, not shouting. Calling. Calling for _her_.

With a gasp, Jay started awake, her heart pounding and her body soaked in sweat. Her mind was fuzzy, and she absently thought, _What the... where am I?_

An echoing voice called her name again. She concentrated hard on the sound until she was able to hear the words, “ _Jay? Jay, where are you?_ ”

She shook hair out of her face and squinted, trying to see her surroundings through blurry vision. Her eyes watered, making it almost impossible to see anything other than a dark green blur in front of her eyes.

She tried to speak, but her throat was dry and no sound passed her lips but a dry rasp. She tried to speak twice more, but was met with the same result each time. She next tried to move her arms and found that she couldn’t move.

A sudden, uncontrollable panic rose inside her and she struggled against whatever bonds were holding her upright. She pulled against them as hard as she could, letting out a rasping groan of effort.

She eventually collapsed, hanging limply from her restraints and breathing in pained gasps. She shook her head, forcing herself to ignore her pounding head and focus on what the hell was going on.

_The last thing I remember..._

The image of the map-strewn room rose unbidden to mind. She remembered placing a beacon for Vhetin to find later. She had taken one last glance at the room, then turned outside when-

Her eyes flew open wide as she remembered the huge taloned hand that had swung down, hitting her in the face and sending her mind into oblivion.

 _Tor ambushed me_ , she thought, looking around herself again. Her vision was slowly returning, and she saw that she was in some kind of subterranean room. Her restraints were made of some sort of gray-green organic material, slimy on the surface but surprisingly durable beneath. She was tied to what felt like a support pillar, her arms and legs stretched out to either side of her body, leaving her with no freedom of movement. She pulled on her arms again, but the organic manacles refused to budge.

She gave up and looked around the room again, narrowing her eyes and thinking, _If Tor ambushed me, that probably means I_ _’m dead. Which probably means this place is hell._

 _Or,_ she continued, using the more logical part of her mind, _he captured me and brought me... here. But where is here? Is it some kind of cave system? Or-_

Her thoughts were cut off as a deafening roar echoed through the room. She snapped her head up, looking around frantically as the roar slowly faded into silence. Then she looked around herself, looking for anything that would help her to escape.

 _I have to get out of here,_ she thought. _Before Tor gets back and kills me for real this time._

She tugged at her restraints, hoping to tear through the gooey-yet-firm substance that held her. When that failed, her gaze fell on her left boot, and the hilt of the small vibroblade she kept there.

 _If I can reach my vibroblade_ , she thought, _maybe I can cut through this crap_.

Another roar, closer than before. Jay looked at the dim outline of a door leading into her room. Then she started tugging against her restraints harder than before. She doubled her efforts as she felt the solidified slime give way slightly.

 _Come on_ , she thought, her heart pounding. _Come on, come_ on _!_

There was a series of wet pops as a series of cracks appeared in the gray-green tendrils of slime over her wrists. She let out a grunt of effort and pulled harder, feeling the slime slowly begin to break apart.

Yet another roar echoed through the room. Jay froze for a moment as she heard heavy footsteps approaching from outside the room. Then she began yanking on her restraints as hard as she could, muttering, "Let me... _out_ of this, damn it! _Come on!_ "

She let out a triumphant cry as her right arm finally broke free of the slime. "Yes!" she shouted as she reached down and grabbed the vibroblade from her boot. The bright green blade edge activated with a mechanized buzz. She sliced the blade across the slimy restraints on her boots. The gooey tendrils peeled away easily now, falling to the ground with wet plops. Jay then reached up and cut the restraint across her wrist, careful not to cut herself on the vibrating blade of her weapon.

She let out a sigh of relief as she finally stepped onto the ground, sliding her vibroblade back into her boot and rubbing her sore wrists as she looked around the dark room.

She froze as she heard a heavy footstep land on the ground behind her. She hesitated only a moment, thinking, _oh_ shab _._ Then she spun fast, striking out with her left fist.

"Whoa!" said a familiar quiet voice as Jay's fist was deflected off to one side.

There was silence for a moment, then Jay narrowed her eyes in confusion and whispered, "Vhetin?"

He nodded his helmet, little more than a dark outline in the darkness surrounding them, lit only by the light of his activated lightsaber blade. "I knew you were alive, no matter what-"

He was cut off as Jay threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She let out a relieved sigh and said, "Fierfek am I glad to see you."

"Yeah, uh, that's nice..." he cleared his throat awkwardly and gently pushed her back. "Are you all right?"

She nodded, brushing hair out of her eyes. "I'm fine. Just a little sore."

She frowned, felt along her belt, then added, "Oh, and my pistol is missing."

"We'll find it later." He nodded with a sigh and murmured, "In the meantime, are you up for a little payback?"

 She grinned and slapped a fist into her palm as Vhetin lead her to the door, the blue blade of his lightsaber illuminating the way. "I'm always ready. What do you have in mind?"

Vhetin proceeded to fill her in on everything that had happened since she’d been gone; the failed attack on the final depot, Fett‘s involvement in the fight, the plan to subdue Tor. In all, Jay thought it was a good, if risky, plan.

Truth be told, the majority of her mind was too wrapped up in relief at being free to do anything other than agree with her partner and she was grinning from ear to ear.

He noticed her smile and turned his head to her slightly. “What’s with you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. But you seriously laid out an entire trap for Tor just so you could find me again?”

He said nothing, neither confirming nor denying her question. She smiled again and said, “I thought so.”

She hesitated, then added, “You’re a good friend, Stripes. Thank you.”

He shrugged and simply said, “You’re my partner.”

She stared at him for a moment, then said, “So what do we do now? Apart from a few roars, we have no idea where Tor is.”

“He’s here to tie loose ends,” Vhetin said. “He’s going to try and escape the planet. He’s not going to leave until he’s done here.”

“What’s he trying to clean up?” Jay asked. “There’s nothing here but the one room with all the maps.”

“That’s what we’re going to find out,” Vhetin said, holding his saber-pike horizontally to shed more light in the pitch-dark hallway. “He’s here for some reason and I-”

He stopped as they crossed the threshold of another door, stopping so quickly that Jay stepped out of the light of his glowing saber and into darkness. She blinked and stepped back into the pale blue light, saying, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He slowly raised the blue saber, shedding its light over the room. Jay followed his helmeted gaze, then slowly widened her eyes as she saw what was revealed.

The floor of the room was covered in the same solidified gray-green slime that Tor had used to keep Jay captive. As she looked, she saw other large lumps bound to support pillars by the stuff; at least ten dead bodies were bound to pillars, their bodies obscured by slimy coverings save for random hands, arms, and legs that protruded from their disgusting cocoons.

Jay shuddered slightly; she had been all set to be food, stored for later like a Coruscanti storing a nerf steak in a preservator.

But the gruesome sight wasn’t what drew Jay’s eyes; no, what she was staring at in horror and confusion were the objects that covered the floor.

Scattered around the room were more than a hundred leathery, brownish eggs.


	14. Infernal Showdown

Jay glanced over at her partner and said, “Um... what the hell does this mean?”

Vhetin was staring around the room as well, his rangefinder pulled down into scanning mode. He continued his observations for a moment before the flag-like appendage swung back up the side of his helmet to point into the air once more.

“It means,” he finally said, “that we have to change the plan. Drastically.”

“What is this?” she asked, jerking her head toward the eggs. “Does this mean we have Tor’s _mate_ to worry about, too?”

“Think about it,” he said, stepping forward and staring at the nest. “We’ve been looking at this all wrong the whole time. We’ve been getting a step closer each time we’ve revised our theory about Tor, but we’ve always been missing one element.”

He turned back to her and explained, “Some species of reptilioid aliens are known to spontaneously lay eggs, even when there are no members of the opposite sex around. Instead of allowing their bloodline to die out, these species have the ability to both fertilize _and_ lay their eggs.”

He shook his head, staring at the nest again before murmuring, “Tor is male _and_ female. A hermaphrodite.”

“Like Mird?” Jay remembered the smelly Strill from back on Mandalore. She’d been informed at some point or another that he had the ability to father and give birth to his offspring.

She stared at her partner for a moment, then the pieces all clicked into place. Her eyes widened and she said, “ _That_ _’s_ why he’s been attacking these outposts so violently! That’s why he ripped those Mandalorians limb-from-limb!”

“He wasn’t just defending her territory,” he continued, gesturing to the eggs. “He was defending his _nest_.”

“This is bad,” Jay said. “This is just one nest room; there could be hundreds more of these down here. And if these eggs are allowed to hatch... this entire area will be overrun with Barabels as violent as Tor.”

“I know.” He grabbed her shoulder and guided her toward the door, then stepped back into the dark room. She turned back to him at the threshold. He was little more than a moving shadow against the darkness inside the nest room and she had to squint to pick out his outline as he looked through his belt pouches.

“What are you going to do?”

“The only thing I can do,” he replied, pulling a cylindrical capsule from his belt. “We have to destroy them.”

Jay recognized the cylinder almost instantly, even in the dim room; an Imperial-issue incendiary grenade. When it detonated, the flammable chemicals within would spill out onto the floor, igniting as they did, and cover the entire area in flames. The fire would smoke out Tor and destroy the mansion as well as the eggs hidden within.

As he was about to toss the grenade, she grabbed his wrist and said, “Wait a minute and think about this.”

He looked into the room, then turned to her and lowered his arm and said, “What?”

“If Tor is part female, that means he has a strong maternal bond with all these eggs. Destroying them could drive him insane. Well... more insane than he already is.”

“What alternative is there?” he murmured. “Letting the eggs hatch and run amok all over Telos?”

She shook her head. “No. But we should report what we’ve found to the local authorities. Black Sun or a nearby Imperial outpost.”

“And what do you think they’d do?” he inquired. “Set all the little monsters up for adoption?”

“Well...”

He shook his head. “No. We can’t let these Barabels hatch and kill hundreds more people. If that means destroying them all and driving Tor crazy... so be it.”

“Wait-” she said, tensing as he popped the arming cap of the cylinder. But it was too late, and the word had barely passed from her lips before he tossed the grenade into the room. It bounced twice, then shattered into pieces with a loud _pow_. There was a blinding flash of light, then orange light exploded through the darkness as flames spread across the fluid that spilled out of the grenade.

Jay stared at the eggs, a pained expression crossing her face as she watched the leathery brown shells whither and crack under the heat of the flames. Then she scowled at her partner and walked away, remaining coldly silent as she did.

Vhetin remained for a few moments, staring at the growing inferno through the expressionless faceplate of his helmet. The flickering flames were mirrored in his tinted T-visor, casting shadows over his faceplate.

Then he turned and strode out of the room without looking back.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Vhetin caught up with Jay as she strode through a large hole in the wall and into the clear night air beyond. Smoke was beginning to pour through the windows of the mansion, lit from within by flickering yellow-orange illumination.

Jay stopped a safe distance from the flaming mansion, folding her arms across her chest and silently staring out at the plains.

"Look," he sighed as he stepped up behind her, "you're obviously upset with me. I've disappointed you."

She scoffed and shook her head. "You're a real piece of work, you know that Vhetin?"

"I only do what I think is right."

She shook her head again and said, "So you burn up a Barabel mother's offspring?"

"If they were allowed to hatch," Vhetin repeated, "they would have killed hundreds."

"So _you_ kill hundreds before _they_ can?" She turned back to him, a look of disbelief on her face. She spread her arms and said, "I... I almost _idolize_ you, Stripes. I thought you were an honorable man who devoted his life to bringing evil beings to justice. But... but now..."

"Now what?" he inquired calmly. "I haven't done anything different; Tor has to be brought to justice, and her brood can't be allowed to kill anyone."

"Is this your whole utilitarian outlook coming into play? Because I don't think-"

" _I_ do think," he replied forcefully. "Objectively look at the situation, Jay. Tor is here, he needs to be smoked out. He's laid hundreds of eggs, which could hatch at any moment. By the time they do, this entire area will be overrun by bloodthirsty little Barabels who will kill hundreds. Better to kill them now than force the Imperials to blanket-bomb the plains!"

He gestured out to the plains around them, to the beautiful scenery of the Telosian night; the seemingly endless seas of grass, the rolling foothills, and the distant twinkling lights of Uni's refugee settlement in the distance.

"Look around you," he snapped. "The Imperials will burn it _all_ if these eggs are allowed to hatch. Would you sacrifice all of this just to keep your own peace of mind? Would you rather let all of this be destroyed than do what is necessary?"

"But-"

"Answer me," he said. "Yes or no."

She stared at the ground, then said, "I don't think I can-"

" _Yes or no_."

"It can't be up to us!" she cried. "It's too big a decision for a single person to decide!"

"But we're the ones who have to make the decision!" he said. " _We're_ the ones who are here. You and me."

"But-"

A huge roar echoed through the night air, cutting Jay off. Both bounty hunters turned in the direction of the roar as it continued, steadily climbing in pitch and power.

Vhetin listened closely, hearing something different in Tor’s voice. This wasn’t a challenge directed at them; this was a mournful howl, a shriek of pain and sorrow.

“Uh-oh,” Jay said. “Sounds like he’s noticed your handiwork.”

He stared silently at the burning mansion for a moment, then turned back to his partner. He cocked his head slightly as he unholstered his pistol and held it out for her to take.

"Are you prepared to do what you need to?" he asked.

She stared at him, then looked down at the pistol. She hesitated, then took the weapon, checked the tibanna charge, and racked back the charging rod.

"Yeah," she sighed. "We’re in this together, whether I like it or not."

He nodded and smiled sadly behind his helmet. "Good. I knew I could count on-"

"Shut up," she snapped. "I just want this contract to be over."

He bowed his head slightly, then set off at a jog in the direction where his HUD estimated Tor to be hiding. Jay kept stride with him, holstering her pistol.

"Remember," he said, "we need to keep him distracted until his heart rate is within the required range."

"Then you stick him in the neck with your magic chemical," Jay said, nodding, "and he'll tip over like a drunk Gammorean. What about Fett?"

He glanced at her. "What about him?"

"He's been hounding us every step of the way. You said the Black Sun guards weren't able to capture him? What makes you think he's just going to give up?"

"He's not," Vhetin said. "And he's not going to leave us alone. Our best bet is to get Tor and get out of here before he picks up the trail again."

She took a deep breath as they both picked up the pace. As much as she hated to admit it, Vhetin was right about everything he'd said. It was ruthless and cold, but right; they had to finish this before Tor destroyed everything.

She activated her comlink as they ran and dialed out a calling code.

"Warren," she said. "You there?"

"I'm here," the woman replied. "It's good to hear from you again."

"Yeah, Vhetin told me all about the fact that you thought I was dead. Do you have troops on hand?"

"Yes," Warren said.

"Good. Have them form up on Tor's mansion in the plains. We have him on-scene, but we need to keep him here. Can you do that?"

"Affirmative. We'll be there within ten minutes."

Jay thanked the woman before signing off the comm. Vhetin turned his head slightly as they headed around the corner.

"Reinforcements are on their way," she reported. "Ten minutes tops."

"Good. Let's hope we can hold out that long."

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Tor sunk to his knees, his golden eyes wide with horror as he watched the mansion go up in flames. A gigantic pillar of smoke rose miles into the sky and glowing embers floated serenely through the air before coming to a rest on charred and burnt grass.

His brood... his bloodline... _destroyed_.

He ignored the sparks and embers that fell on his vest and combat pants, causing the material to smolder and smoke. The embers burned his scaly skin, but the pain only served to fuel his grief and rage.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then threw his head back and let out a mournful shriek that echoed off the plains. He poured all his emotion into the scream, letting it build in intensity until it felt like his head was going to explode under the pressure.

When he broke off, gasping for breath, he stared at the flames engulfing the mansion and narrowed his eyes.

 _The hunterz_... he thought darkly. _They are responsible for thiz atrocity. They will pay with their livez._

He slowly rose to his feet, grabbing his huge vibrosword from where it was stuck point-first in the ground. He sheathed it across his back, his heart now icily cold. This was no longer the bloody passion he’d felt when murdering intruders into his territory in the past. Now ice coursed through his body, and his hands quivered with suppressed rage.

Yes, he would kill these hunters. And failing that, he would make sure they suffered dearly for the crimes they had committed.

 

~~~~~~~

 

Jay cautiously moved around the corner of the flaming mansion, pistol held at the ready. Vhetin was behind her, making sure Tor didn't try to double around behind them.

Glowing embers were lazily floating down through the air, giving the area a creepy, apocalyptic look. She squinted, her eyes watering from the smoke that still poured from the mansion windows.

"Clear," she called back.

Vhetin nodded and backed around the corner, one of his normal lightsabers activated in one hand. His saber pike was hooked to his jetpack and he had his GL-99 in his other hand, the stock removed for ease of use.

"Any sign of Tor?" he asked, passing the barrel of the blaster rifle over the area cautiously.

"No. No sign of him. What about your side?"

There was no answer, and she stopped, turning back to him. "Vhetin? What's wrong?"

He was standing as still as a post, lightsaber pointing toward the ground. She stepped toward him and hesitantly said, "Vhetin? Are you listening to me?"

"Run," he said quietly. "As fast as you can in any direction."

"What-"

" _Now_!" he shouted, raising his lightsaber.

Jay shouted in surprise as she heard a loud _clang_ and Vhetin suddenly went flying through the air. He slammed into the mansion wall at least five meters up, bounced off, and hit the ground hard. He groaned as he tried to get to his feet, then fell limply to the ground and didn’t move again.

Tor stood in Vhetin's place, his shoulders hunched as he hefted a huge vibrosword in one hand. He slowly raised the blade, which dripped dark red blood.

"Thiz one had no quarrel with you," the Barabel snarled as he grasped the sword in a two-handed grip, "but you hunted me, interfered with the defense of my territoriez, and you _murdered my brood_."

Jay pulled her pistol and fired at Tor's feet. He stepped back as a fountain of dirt erupted from the impact of the bolt and narrowed his eyes.

"On your knees," Jay said, gesturing with the pistol. "Don't make me ask you twice."

But, as Jay had come to expect, he didn't obey. He charged forward, raising his huge vibrosword over his head with a roar. Jay stepped back, firing at him as fast as she could pull the trigger. As usual, the bright yellow bolts from her weapon did nothing to stop him.

With a shout, Vhetin suddenly jumped between the two, raising his lightsaber and blocking Tor's downstroke with the glowing blue energy blade. Blood leaked from a shallow slash across his arm, but it didn't slow him down as he shoved Tor's blade off to the side and kicked at the Barabel's gut.

Tor staggered back, letting out a loud _whuff_ of air before Vhetin slammed an armored gauntlet across his snout. He staggered away with a yelp, and Vhetin relentlessly pressed his attack. He slashed his energy blade at Tor's shoulder, carving a deep gash in the reptilioid's skin; hardly the damage the weapon usually inflicted, but enough to send Tor into a frenzy. He tried to slam his tail at Vhetin's chest, but the Mandalorian dodged the attack and slashed again, severing a half-foot-long length off the end of the appendage. Tor let out a bellow of pain and punched at Vhetin’s chest, but the bounty hunter dodged the blow and slashed with his glowing blue blade again, scoring a deep gash across the back of Tor’s hand. The Barabel slowly began to falter under the sheer ferocity and speed of his opponent and he began backing away, forced into a defensive posture.

"Jay!" Vhetin shouted. "Get in here and help!"

She started and broke into a run, sprinting for the two and raising her pistol. She clicked it over to stun as she did and pulled the firing stud. Blue-white energy rings erupted from the barrel of her blaster, enveloping Tor and sending lightning crackling along his body. Vhetin stepped back so as not to be affected by the shot as well, then dove into the fray again.

Before he could slash with his lightsaber again, Tor grabbed Vhetin by the sides of the helmet, lifting him bodily into the air and hitting him with a powerful headbutt. Vhetin grunted as his head was snapped back, then Tor lifted him over his head and threw him away like a limp rag doll.

Vhetin flew a good seven meters before slamming into the wall of the mansion. With the tremendous din of splintering wood, he crashed through the wall, into the flames that were engulfing the mansion. He didn’t reappear.

With a snarl Tor reached down, grabbed his vibrosword, and stomped after the hunter, ready to finish the job.

Jay sprinted harder, pumping her legs as fast as she could. As Tor raised the huge sword over his head, ready for a killing blow, Jay jumped up and grabbed his wrists. She hung in mid-air, holding on to his hands and preventing him from completing the blow. Tor quickly lost his grip on the vibrosword and Jay crashed to the ground, the heavy weapon falling on top of her.

Tor didn’t even slow down; he just kept his course for the hole Vhetin had made when he’d crashed into the wall. He stepped through the aperture, taking a huge chunk out of the wall as he slammed his fist through and roared, “You came here to kill me! To murder my younglingz! Then you fight back when I attempt to exact justice?”

Jay struggled out from under the sword and stumbled to her feet. She grasped the vibrosword’s long handle and hauled it up with difficulty, heading after Tor. An explosion went off somewhere in the mansion and five-foot flames erupted from the hole in the wall as Tor bellowed, “ _Murderer_ z! _Murdererz_!”

She took a deep breath and stepped through the wall, feeling a blast of heat wash over her as she entered the inferno.

Inside was the perfect image of hell; flames crawled up the walls and raced across the ceiling and floor. Embers flashed through the scorching air and smoke gathered near the ceiling, making Jay’s eyes sting and water. With a tremendous _crack_ , a section of the ceiling collapsed onto the floor to her left.

Tor was standing in the midst of all this, holding Vhetin by the throat as he punched the Mandalorian in the face, chest, and stomach. Vhetin slumped limply in the Barabel’s grip, only halfheartedly trying to bat away the blows.

“You _murderer!_ ” Tor screamed, saliva flying from his tooth-studded mouth as he did.

"You... killed my brothers," Vhetin gasped, clutching at Tor's muscular forearm, "and my sisters. Bringing you in is... my duty."

"Duty?!" Tor snarled, shaking the bounty hunter. "Your _duty_ is to murder?"

"If I must," Vhetin coughed. "Yes."

Tor bellowed in rage, then cocked his arm and threw Vhetin up, through the flaming ceiling. The Mandalorian crashed up through the weakened wood, slamming back down a meter or so away. He crumpled to the ground and lay still as flames began to lick at his arms and legs.

Jay didn't waste any time; she made her way quickly across the flaming floor and hefted the huge sword, straining to keep the meter-and-a-half blade in the air. She depressed the activation button and the vibrating purple blade sprang to life with a hiss.

Tor turned at the sound and stared at her. “You seriouzly think you can kill me with that weapon?" he rumbled as another huge chunk of the ceiling collapsed, only a half-meter from Vhetin’s limp form. "A weak human female such as yourself?"

She swung the huge weapon like a bat, intentionally missing him by centimeters and forcing him to take a step back. She struggled to keep the heavy blade under control and brought it back to point at his chest.

"You're not my first dangerous bounty," she said, flinching as a wooden support beam taller than she was collapsed behind her. "And you won't be my last. If that means I have to fight you alone..."

He narrowed his golden eyes and finished, "Then so be it."

He charged forward, hunching his shoulders and driving into Jay before she could raise her weapon. He caught her around the waist and drove them both out into clear, clean air.

Jay kept her balance, staggering back a few steps and pointing the huge blade at Tor’s chest - partly as a warning for him to stay away, partly to serve as a counterweight to keep her from toppling over backwards.

Tor howled a challenge and stomped forward, raising a huge hand for a blow that could take her head off at the shoulders. She dodged the attack and swung the blade again, slamming it against his side. The blow didn't have enough force to cut his thick skin, but it was more than powerful enough to make him stagger to the side. She pressed the attack, kicking him in the ribs with the heel of her boot.

Tor barely flinched as her hard bootheel slammed into his side. He grabbed her shin and yanked up, sending her crashing onto her back. As she tried to clamber back to her feet, he roared and slammed his fist into her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her. She collapsed back onto the ground, gasping and coughing as she held her stomach.  He pulled back his fist again, preparing for another brutal punch.

A loud roar echoed through the air and Tor hesitated, looking up into the night sky. The bright blue glare of a dropship's ion drives flashed over their heads. The ship hovered over the plains, dropping lower to the ground. As it was hanging some nine meters above the ground, the ship's bay doors slid open with a metallic _ca-chunk_ and a familiar female voice spoke, magnified by a vocal amplicoder.

"Oppo Tor!" came the voice of Operative Warren. "Lie on the ground, hands on your head!"

 _Warren_! Jay thought, her head spinning with relief. _She finally got here in time!_

"Now!" Warren's voice thundered.

"Thiz one will not be subdued by puny humanz such az you!" Tor bellowed, pulling his cannon-like rifle from the sling on his back and opening up at the dropship. The ship wobbled in mid-air as bright red blaster bolts impacted the bottom and left smoking burn marks. It hovered for a moment more, then broke off and sped off away from the onslaught. It disappeared around the perimeter of the flaming mansion.

Jay took advantage of Tor's distraction and scrambled to her feet. Barely pausing to catch her breath, she swung the saber up and around, the weight almost pulling her off her feet, and slashed at Tor's other side. This time the humming blade sliced deep into his skin, spilling dark blood on the grass. He roared and slammed the back of his fist across her face. Her hold on the vibrosword was wrenched away as she flew back and landed on her back in the grass almost a meter away. Her head thumped painfully against a large rock, hard enough for her to see stars.

She slowly sat up, her head spinning, as Tor lumbered toward her, sword in hand.

"Foolz," he snarled as he raised the sword, ready to plunge the humming purple blade through her chest. "Your skillz at hunting are commendable, but you would have done well to leave me in peace. Now I must eliminate you, in retaliation for your crimez."

Then he stabbed down and Jay screamed.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin slowly sat up, his head pounding and his vision blurry. Heat blasted him from all directions and his suit’s environment regulators struggled to keep his body cool in the raging conflagration around him. He shook his head as his heat-damaged HUD sputtered out and flashed the words _ONE MOMENT... ONE MOMENT... REACTIVATING NOW._

The world flashed back into focus, his heads-up display throwing all sorts of information at him; the temperature, his location on an overhead satellite map, even the molecular construction of the burning building around him. The flood of information continued for a moment, mixing with the flashing flames in front of his eyes in a dizzying storm before his HUD systems sorted themselves out and resolved into their typical format.

He staggered to his feet, using his saber pike to hold his weight as his wounded leg - and the structurally unsound floor - buckled under him.

He saw Jay battling with Tor outside the mansion, some meters away. She was swinging his huge vibrosword over her head as he circled her slowly, snarling and waiting for the moment to strike. He darted forward and Jay swung the humming vibrosword with a shout. The blade slammed into his side, and his infrared sensors picked up a warm spot as a splash of blood landed on the grass.

He broke into a sprint for the hole in the wall as Tor backhanded Jay across the face, sending her flying back to land in the grass some distance away. As he leaped out of the burning building and into the cool night air beyond, Tor reached down and scooped up his sword, stomping toward Jay's supine form. He muttered something to her before raising the blade horizontally, preparing for a stab that would skewer her through the chest.

As he ran, his HUD systems automatically scanned Tor's vitals. After a small waiting sign popped up on the internal viewscreen, the words _REQUIRED HEART RATE ACHIEVED_ flashed across his vision.

Tor's heart was beating fast enough to inject the horatizine. He had to hurry before that changed, so he doubled his efforts, sprinting through the grass faster than humanly possible at forty kilometers per hour. He pulled the syringe of tranquilizer from his belt, popping the safety cap as he went.

He was only a meter away when Tor stabbed down and Jay's scream echoed across the plains.

"No!" Vhetin shouted, leaping into the air. His HUD blared the _REQUIRED HEART RATE ACHIEVED_ notice again before he wrapped his arms around Tor's neck and thrust the large needle into the thick skin between his throat and his shoulder.

Tor flailed and dropped his sword as Vhetin depressed the plunger, injecting the tranquilizer. Vhetin released his hold on Tor's neck and landed on his hands and knees in the grass. The Barabel staggered away, clutching at the needle still protruding from his neck. He fell to his knees, his truncated tail twitching sporadically, then fell face-first into the grass and didn't move again.

Vhetin limped toward his limp form, panting as he hauled the Barabel's huge arms behind his back and cuffed his wrists and ankles together. The stun cuffs flashed on, pink-purple lightning arcing over the interior of the metal.

Satisfied that Tor wasn't going anywhere, he rose to his feet and limped back toward Jay. His heart began to pound as he saw that the grass around her was stained with blood.

"Hey," he said, falling to his knees next to her. "Are you all right?"

She rolled onto her back with a groan, holding a hand to her bleeding side, just above her hip. She shook hair out of her face, grimacing as she said, "Yeah... I think so."

"What the hell happened?"

She let out a shaky breath. "I rolled out of the way when he tried to stab me. The sword just grazed my side."

She grunted, grimacing in pain as she asked, "How bad is it?"

He peeled her bloodstained hand away and examined the wound. "It's not that bad," he said after a time. "A little bacta, a few bandages, and you'll be fine."

She let out a long breath. "Good. I was worried there for a while."

He chuckled as he slung her arm around his shoulders and hauled her to her feet. "You weren't the only one."

“Did you get him?”

He glanced at her. “What?”

She coughed and whispered, “Tor. Did you get him?”

He nodded toward the limp form in the grass. Tor was out cold, his golden eyes rolled back in his head, his tail twitching slowly, and his chest rising and falling regularly.

“The horatizine should keep him under for another six hours at least,” he said. “Plenty of time to get him loaded onboard _Void_ and get him out of here.”

Black Sun troopers appeared around the corner of the mansion, sweeping their blaster rifles over the area. Warren was at the head of the group, a short-stocked rifle in her hands.

"What's going on?" she asked as the troopers fanned out. She saw Tor's limp form lying in the grass and her eyes widened slightly. She looked to Vhetin and said, "Your chemical actually worked?"

Vhetin nodded wearily, exhaustion suddenly flooding his system. "Took some work, but we got it done."

Warren was staring at Tor in something close to awe. "Xizor wasn't lying about you two," she murmured. "You _are_ good."

He chuckled. "Thanks. How is the depot?"

"The depot is fine," she replied. "All of Xizor's remaining goods are safe, and there's no other signs of tampering."

She held out her hand to him, looking slightly embarrassed as she did. "You have the thanks of Black Sun. And... you have my thanks as well."

He nodded, shaking her hand. "I'm glad we could be of help."

Warren nodded and held her hand out to Jay as well. "Moqena," she said. "I'm glad Tor didn't cause you any lasting harm. You're a good bounty hunter; if you ever need a job, Black Sun's doors are always open."

Jay laughed quietly as she reached across Vhetin's shoulder to shake the woman's hand. "Thanks. But before I even consider another career choice, I've got some mending to do."

"Could you get your grunts to load Tor up in _Void_ 's cages?" Vhetin asked as they started limping toward the ship again. "The exit ramp is open."

She nodded, still staring at the limp Barabel. Then she shook her head in disbelief, turned to her troops, and spun a hand in the air. "You heard the Mando! Get to work!"

Vhetin smiled slightly, noticing that she was no longer using the insulting term 'bucket-head'. Jay must have noticed it as well, because she grinned and nodded toward the operative. "You seem to have made a new friend."

He nodded and added, "And I managed to keep my old one."

She smiled, then grimaced as she put strain on the wound in her side. “That’s sweet. But I’m in... a little too much pain to acknowledge kindness right now.”

“Let’s get you onboard _Void_ ,” he said. “I’ve got a medkit there. A little synthflesh spray and it should hold until you can get some stitches.”

Together, they limped toward the distant spearhead shape of Vhetin’s ship as the Black Sun troops hoisted Tor’s body into the air between them and began to haul the unconscious Barabel in the same direction.

Vhetin looked around the area as he helped Jay limp along and thought, _Hm. Maybe Fett did give up after all_.


	15. Boba Fett? Where?!

The synthflesh made a slight hissing noise as the brownish spray hit Jay’s skin. It burned like fire for a moment, then seemed to freeze against her side. She sucked in a breath as it finally settled into a slightly cooler, rubbery state, allowing her to move more comfortably again.

“Better?” Vhetin asked, holding the canister of synthflesh spray.

She nodded, grimacing as she lowered her shirt and pulled on her armorleather jacket again. “A little. I can move at least, so its a start.”

“Good,” he said, turning away and clipping the canister back into the emergency medkit pack. He stored it back in the compartment in the ceiling of _Void_ ’s cockpit, then settled behind the controls. He hit the comm button and said, “Warren, come in. Are your men finished?”

“Tor is secure,” she replied. “You guys can head out whenever you want.”

There was a pause, then she said, “And... it was an honor to work with you. Both of you.”

Jay glanced to Vhetin, then smiled and said, “The honor was ours, Warren. Black Sun is lucky to have you.”

The woman chuckled. “Yeah, well... if you ever need anything from the Telos branch, just give us a call. We owe you now.”

“Your payment came through,” Vhetin said. “That’s all we need now. Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” she replied, then signed off without another word.

Jay smiled as she ran a hand through her hair and said, “You know, she didn’t turn out to be that bad in the end. Completely useless in a firefight, but...”

“She provided us with important tactical information,” he finished, shrugging. “And it’s better to have Black Sun on our side than against us, trust me.”

“Then let’s drop Tor off on Naboo and get home,” she said. “I’ve got a new apartment to move into before I can get some well-deserved sleep.”

He nodded as he guided _Void_ \- which had _Vengeance_ hooked to its docking ring - into the air. With a roar of its engines, the ship shot off into the sky, heading for high orbit.

It was another five minutes before the air outside the cockpit viewports began to heat red-hot and a deep rumble sounded throughout the ship. The bulkheads began to shake as _Void_ struggled out of Telos' atmosphere. After a few tense moments, the flames surrounding the ship cooled and faded away, leaving the two hunters staring at the thousands of stars twinkling in space.

Vhetin began typing commands into the onboard computer and flipping switches, preparing the ship for hyperspace departure. A high-pitched whine sounded from somewhere in the ship as the hyperdrive powered up.

"You can go ahead and get some rest, Jay," he said to her as he guided the ship toward the designated hyperspace departure area. "I'll get you when we reach Naboo."

She nodded and gingerly rose from her seat, limping toward the door from the cockpit. As the door slid shut behind her, she let out a long breath and closed her eyes.

She was glad this contract was finally over; she wasn't sure if she would have survived another fight with Tor. In fact, she was sure she _wouldn't_ have made it. Her side still burned, and  she'd need stitches once they got back to Mandalore. And she'd only gone head-to-head against Tor for a short time; any longer and he would have ripped her apart.

She keyed open the door to her borrowed quarters and slowly sat on the side of the cot, stretching her legs out with a groan. After a moment, she laid back and closed her eyes, letting out a long breath.

It didn't really matter whether she would have survived longer in a fight against Tor; he was locked up in the ship's cages now, unconscious and unable to move thanks to the immobilizing shock collar that Warren's men had clapped on him.

She frowned slightly as she thought she heard a beeping noise somewhere in the room. But it was probably just a missed call on her comlink; nothing she needed to deal with at that moment.

Her part in this hunt was over. Now she could finally relax.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

Vhetin silently guided his ship toward the hyperspace departure area, a small section of space reserved for outgoing ships. As he let the ship's self-pilot take over the ship's controls, he pulled up the security cam feeds for the ship's cages.

Tor was still unconscious, held within one of _Void_ 's small ray-shielded holding cells. He was lying on his stomach with his arms cuffed behind his back and an immobilizer collar clipped around his neck. His truncated tail waved lazily back and forth across the floor and his eyes were rolled back in his head.

Vhetin chuckled slightly as he thought, _Even unconscious he looks like he could rip someone's head off_.

His laugh died quickly as he remembered why he'd accepted the contract in the first place. Though Black Sun had honored the contract, and the ten thousand credit bounty had been split between himself and Jay. His partner had been wounded, yes, but she would be fine given time and rest.

But most importantly, his fallen brothers and sisters had been laid to rest and their murders had been avenged. Tor would most certainly face execution when he was turned over to Xizor, and his brood had been eradicated.

Justice had been served.

He sighed and activated the comlink to the local Imperial space station. He'd need to check in with them for hyperspace clearance, and he wasn't going to have _Void_ impounded after such a hectic contract for a stupid reason like failing to register with the Imp Space Control officers.

"Come in Imperial Station _Resolution_ ," he said when he opened a comm channel to the station, "this is freelance transport _Void_ requesting hyperspace clearance on vector Tee-Twenty-Three."

"Roger _Void_ ," came the response. "Please maintain position until hyperspace clearance... -an...-stablished."

He clicked the comm button. "Please repeat _Resolution_. Your transmission is garbled."

His response was met with static and he repeated his earlier transmission. "Please repeat _Resolution_."

A response finally came back; but it was a raspy, gravelly voice that said, "Hyperspace clearance denied."

Vhetin sat up in his seat, his eyes wide. " _Fett_?"

"You can't leave until I say you can leave," the bounty hunter said. "And I say you can go when you hand over Tor."

Vhetin cursed fluently in Huttese and took the ship of automatic control. He hit the ship intercom button and snapped, "Jay, get up to the cockpit _now_."

He pushed _Void_ 's engines to one hundred percent and shot toward the hyperspace departure area. The ship let out a roar as it hurtled through space.

"Oh no," Fett said as a shadow fell over _Void_ 's viewport. Vhetin cursed again as the angular shape of _Slave I_ soared over his ship and bright red blaster bolts stitched the external bulkheads. The ship bucked beneath his feet and he was thrown out of his seat.

"You didn't really think I was going to let you escape that easily?" Fett growled. "Hand over Tor or I'll blast you and your pretty little partner into oblivion and collect Tor's assassination bounty."

Vhetin grunted as he pulled himself back into the pilot's seat. "Tor is worth more alive."

"He's worth nothing if another hunter collects." _Slave I_ roared overhead again, circling _Void_ like a predatory razorfin shark, its pale orange propulsion drives blazing bright enough to make Vhetin's helmet visor tint to protect his vision.

"One last chance," Fett said. "Hand him over."

" _Sooran, shab_ ," Vhetin snapped, gunning the ship's engine and yanking the control yoke to the left. The ship veered left, slipping right under the Firespray patrol ship and heading for the Imperial station. If he was lucky, the Imperials would see Fett's attack and intervene, leaving Vhetin with enough of an opening to jump to Naboo.

The high-pitched _peep-peep-peep_ of _Slave I_ 's blaster cannons was deafening even from the interior of the cockpit. Bright red blaster bolts flashed past the viewports, stretching off into space or bouncing off _Void_ 's shields.

The door hissed open and Jay staggered into the cockpit, holding her side as she shouted to be heard over the staccato report of incoming cannon rounds. "What the hell is going on? Are we under attack?"

"It's Fett!" Vhetin shouted over the noise. "Strap yourself into the weapon's station!"

She eased herself into the seat near the starboard control wall, securing the chair's crash webbing over her shoulders and pulling out the weapon yoke. The weapon console switched on, green lights flashing across the screen as Jay narrowed her eyes and concentrated.

Vhetin had seen her like this before; it was the same look she got in her eyes when she was in the simulator, racking up the piloting scores back at MandalMotors. When she'd been like this, he'd seen her triple the high scores set by top Mandalorian pilots.

But she didn't fire; she just concentrated on the readout, her eyes darting across the screen. Vhetin glanced between her and the shield display, which was steadily dwindling.

"Shields at eighty-five percent," he warned as he increased power to the engines. "What's the holdup?"

"I'm just... waiting for the right moment," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the explosions outside the cockpit. "Shut up so I can concentrate."

Vhetin pulled the control yoke up, sending _Void_ into an upward barrel roll. _Slave I_ was right behind him, matching him maneuver-for-maneuver. Two panels retracted from the side of Fett's ship and two missile racks rolled out. Two trails of blue-gray exhaust sprouted from the foremost missiles and they shot forward, toward _Void_ 's engines.

"Incoming!" Vhetin shouted, hitting control buttons and flipping switches as fast as he could. His hands darted over the command console with inhuman speed as he increased power to the deflector shields. "Standby, I'm rerouting power to alternate thrust tubes. Hold on!"

With a screeching roar, _Void_ spun and shot straight down, heading back toward Telos' surface. The missiles followed, locking on to the ship's engine exhaust. _Void_ continued to spin and increasing velocity, making the missiles roll and curl around each other as they struggled to keep their lock on individual engine pods.

"Releasing chaff," Jay reported, hitting a glowing red button on the weapons console. A loud _chunk_ sounded somewhere deeper into the ship and the external cams picked up a cloud of metal shards being ejected into space. They spun and shone brightly as they caught the light of the nearby sun.

The missiles flew straight through the cloud, swerving and dodging with a speed that only a guided computer could achieve. After a few moments the chaff stores were depleted and the missiles flew on unobstructed.

Jay finally opened up with the cannons, hitting a quick double-tap on the trigger. _Void_ 's external turret released two cannon bolts that hit one of the missiles, making it explode in a cloud of flame and shrapnel.

"Got it!" she cried, punching a fist in the air, then cursing and grabbing her wounded side.

"There's still one more," Vhetin said, leveling out and swinging the ship around to port. The remaining missile streaked after them, a jet of blue-gray exhaust painting trails across space as it did.

Vhetin suddenly equalized power and yanked back hard on the control yoke, making _Void_ spin in a 360-degree backroll. The life support systems strained to maintain normal gravity within the ship.

The remaining missile spun out of control, the weapon's internal computer trying to guide the missile up while maintaining its erratic course through space. The small computer couldn't keep up with Vhetin's faster-than-average piloting and spun off into space, detonating in a blue-white orb of flame.

But once again Fett was a step ahead; _Slave I_ zoomed back into view, right on their tail again. The bounty hunter opened up with his cannons again, and Vhetin tensed as he saw the shields drain to seventy percent.

"Jay..." he warned.

She just narrowed her eyes and tightened her grip on the weapon controls. The shields slowly drained to fifty percent.

" _Jay_..."

She murmured, "Come on... come on... just a few more seconds."

The shields drained to twenty percent and Vhetin cried, "Jay!"

The weapon's console let out a chime and she finally mashed the trigger. Bright red blaster bolts erupted from the mounted turret, shooting back toward _Slave I_. The ship rear cams picked up the enemy ship rolling and swerving to avoid the incoming fire. Three cannon bolts hit the Firespray pursuit ship near the cockpit viewport and the began to leak smoke.

"Keep him off us for a minute more!" Vhetin shouted. "I'm going to make a break for the departure area!"

 _Slave I_ rolled and opened up again, cannon bolts bouncing off the exhausted shields. Jay cursed as she worked the weapon joystick, firing as fast as she could pull the trigger. She flipped a switch and pressed a glowing yellow button on the stick, firing two targeting rockets. _Slave I_ spun in space and the missiles streaked away into space before coming around to track the ship's transponder signal.

Jay took advantage of Fett's momentary distraction and released a barrage of fire from the turret. Blaster bolts stitched _Slave I_ 's hull, leaving a criss-cross pattern of burns along the gray-green metal.

"We're getting close," Vhetin reported, setting up the navicomputer. "Keep him distracted."

"Easier said than done," Jay snapped. She swiveled the joystick and fired again, aiming for _Slave I_ 's oval-shaped base. Large chunks of hull were blasted away, spinning off into space in red-hot clouds of superheated metal.

"Vhetin," Jay warned. "He's, uh, he's getting ready to-"

Before she could even complete her sentence, _Slave I_ released a deadly barrage of cannon bolts. The red bolts slashed across space and exploded against _Void_ 's hull, further weakening the shields.

"Damn it!" Vhetin shouted, slamming his fist against the control console as a warning siren blared through the cockpit. He found himself sweating, even in the temp-controlled confines of his suit. "Rear deflectors are failing. We can't take another hit like that!"

Jay stared at the weapons console, looked to Vhetin, then looked back again. She bit her lower lip, then rose from her chair and limped quickly out of the cockpit. Vhetin started at the sound of the cockpit door hissing open and looked after her, thinking, _What is she doing?_

Then he set the ship for automatic evasive maneuvers and rose from his chair, sprinting after his partner. He caught up with her in the room that joined to the docking ring. She was reaching out to hit the button to open the docking tube to her ship when he caught her arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he said, shouting to be heard over the explosions that wracked the ship.

"If I can get to my ship," she said, turning to him, "I can keep Fett off your tail until you can get Tor out of here!"

"What? Are you crazy? He'll rip you apart!"

"No he won't!" Jay shouted, wrestling her arm from his grip. " _Vengeance_ is small enough to outmaneuver him!"

"You're in no shape to fly as it is!"

"I can do this!" she pressed. "Trust me!"

That made him falter. He stared at her for a moment, thinking, _I can't let her do this. She's going to kill herself!_

Then the memory of his conversation with Tal Tracyn back on Mandalore suddenly flashed into his mind. He heard her voice, echoing as if he was seeing the memory through psychometry.

 _You need to stop leading her along and actually work with her_ , Tal had told him. _Trust her_.

 _Jay is an extraordinary pilot_ , he was forced to admit. _And she'll definitely be able to give Fett a run for his money. But what if-_

No. The time for _what-if_ 's was long since past. He needed to make a decision now; either let her go, or force her to stay. He looked up at Jay, who was glaring at him and holding her bleeding side.

 _She can do it_ , he thought. _I know she can._

"Fine," he finally sighed. "Go. And may _te Manda_ be with you."

She turned back to the docking ring without another word. She slapped the glowing blue button and the ring irised open, revealing the waiting cockpit of _Vengeance_ , which was kept pressurized by an atmosphere tube.

Jay turned back to him and gave him a quick nod. He nodded back, then turned and sprinted back to the cockpit. He threw himself into the pilot's chair and took the ship off auto-pilot.

"Jay," he said over the comm. "You ready to go?"

"I'm detaching in three... two... _one_."

A loud _chunk_ sounded from somewhere in the ship and _Void_ 's sensors picked up a friendly contact as _Vengeance_ streaked off into space.

"Come on, Fett!" Jay cried over the comm channel. "Come and get me you bastard!"

The sleek silver shape of _Vengance_ hurtled through space in front of Vhetin's ship, opening up with both laser cannons and scoring multiple hits up _Slave I_ 's hull.

With a roar of propulsion engines _Slave I_ peeled off, following the smaller ship. Jay pulled her ship into a tight barrel roll and swerved to shoot off in the opposite direction. Fett tore after her, firing as fast as his ship’s cannons would permit. The bolts exploded against _Vengeance_ 's shields in small eruptions of ionized gas.

"Go!" Jay shouted over the comm. "Jump now and I'll catch up!"

Vhetin tensed, then cursed and accelerated toward the departure zone. As he grew closer to the departure zone, he hesitated, staring at the cam that showed _Vengeance_ still engaged in battle with _Slave I_.

"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked.

"Go!" Jay shouted again, and that was all the encouragement he needed. He reached up as the navicomputer toned that the coordinates were locked in and pushed forward the hyperdrive activation lever.

The stars instantly blurred to streaks and _Void_ shot into the whirling blue-white tunnel of hyperspace. Vhetin sat back in the seat and sighed before ripping off his helmet. It bounced across the floor, spinning on its dome for a moment before coming to a halt in one corner.

The next hour was the longest in his entire life; communications could not be sent or received while traveling in hyperspace, so he had no way of contacting his partner. After forty-five minutes of sitting and staring into the hyperspatial vortex he stood and started pacing through the cockpit. That occupied him for another ten minutes before the navicomputer signaled that he had reached his destination.

With a surge of deceleration, _Void_ exploded into the Naboo system. The dark blue-green orb of the planet hung peacefully in the front viewport, rotating ever so slowly against the backdrop of stars. Ships of all makes and models flew through space, heading to and from the planet, and three bulky Imperial Star Destroyers patrolled the area. The city-sized capital ships thundered slowly through space like predatory sea creatures hunting for prey, paying little attention to the miniscule ships that traveled to and fro beneath them.

Vhetin instantly threw himself into the pilot's seat and opened a comm to the nearby Imperial space station.

"Imperial Station _Sacrosanct_ ," he said, quickly looking up the station's name on the shipboard databank. "This is freelance transport _Void_ , come in."

" _Void,_ this is _Sacrosanct_ ," came the response. Vhetin could honestly say that he'd never been more glad to hear an Imperial's voice in his life. "We read you. What is the problem?"

"Have you received contact from a MandalMotors Skyraptor Interceptor called _Vengeance_? It's... _unbelievably_ important."

"I'll look through the logs, _Void_ ," said the Imperial officer. "Stand by."

Vhetin clenched his fists on the control console as he waited. After what seemed like an eternity, the officer came back on comms and said, "Sorry, _Void_ , that's a negative on the Skyraptor. Is there anything else we can-"

Vhetin didn't wait for him to finish before changing to Jay's secure comm channel and hitting the transmission button.

"Jay," he said. "Come in. Do you read me?"

There was nothing but static in response and he hit the transmission button again. "Jay, come in. Can you hear me?"

When there was no response, he slammed his fist on the transmission button and said, " _Damn_ it Jay, where are you?"

The comm hissed static and Vhetin fell into his seat, rubbing his eyes.

"Geez, you don't need to yell," came a familiar voice over the comm. "I was stabbed in the side; my hearing works fine."

He instantly sat up and hit the transmission button. "Jay? Is that you?"

"In the flesh," she replied with a laugh. "I jumped a few seconds after you did. Left Fett in the dust."

He almost collapsed against the control console in relief. "You have no idea how glad I am to hear that."

"Can I have permission to dock?" she asked. "'Cause I'm getting kind of claustrophobic in here."

"Come on in," he said with a grin, standing and pulling his helmet back over his head. "Be sure to wipe your feet."

Two minutes later and he was helping Jay limp out of the docking ring. The entire right side of her white tank top was now stained a deep red, and her armorleather jacket was dripping blood onto the floor as she stepped on board. She gratefully accepted his hand as he helped her down from the docking tube, then limped on her own toward the door.

"You had me worried there for a while," he said, falling into step next to her. "I thought-"

"You didn't think Fett shot me down?" she said, glancing at him. "I wasn't appointed second in command of Phantom Squadron because I was just another pretty face, you know. I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

He chuckled and fell silent. They walked along for a moment before he sighed and murmured, "Well, in any case, you saved the day. Fett would have killed us both if not for you."

Jay let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping. As Vhetin watched her, he noticed that she had a faint smile on her face.

"You okay?" he asked

"I'm fine," she replied. She hesitated, then added, "You're a good friend, Stripes. I'm glad you're here to watch my back."

He smiled slightly behind his helmet as he thought over her words. As tough as he was he would have died on this contract without Jay, he was sure of it; Tor had almost wiped Boba Fett off the face of the galaxy and that was no easy feat. As he thought about it, he realized that there was no one else he would have preferred to have at his side.

The memory of his conversation with Tal Tracyn once again rose to his mind.

 _You need to stop leading her along and actually work with her_ , the Mandalorian had said to him, seemingly a hundred years ago. _Trust her_.

And he did trust her now, in a way only few people in his life deserved. He knew that with her watching his back the two of them could overcome any obstacle, bring down any target no matter how dangerous. The Tor contract had only driven that fact home.

"Yeah," he said to her. "I'm glad to have you watching my back too."

She smiled and said, "Then let‘s head out. We’ve still got a Barabel to deliver, remember?"


	16. Number One for a Reason

**Four days later, Keldabe, Mandalore**

Jay grunted as she hefted one of the duraplast packing containers into her arms, carefully walking it through the door into her new apartment. She grimaced slightly as she tugged on the stitches in her side, but managed to set the heavy box down against one wall.

Earlier in the day she'd gone shopping during one of Keldabe's twice-weekly market days, using a substantial amount of her reward from the Tor bounty to pick up some necessary supplies for her new home. When added to the gifts she'd been given at the surprise apartment-warming party that Rame and Mia had sprung on her the day before, she now had a substantial amount of belongings.

The first thing she'd unpacked was a small holomonitor, which was currently tuned in to a local news station. She'd needed something to listen to while unpacking. Next had come some essential furniture like her cot and a small desk that she'd set up near one corner.

She turned back to the door and grabbed another container labeled _KITCHEN SUPPLIES_ on one side. She moved that one into the small kitchen, setting it on the counter. Once done, she stepped back, brushing her hands off and looking around with her hands on her hips.

The apartment had been a good find; fairly spacious for the surprisingly low cost of a hundred-fifty credits a month, with a set of stairs leading up to a small loft area where she'd set up her cot. There were two windows that looked out over the Keldabe cityscape, with MandalMotors Tower looming over it all in the distance. There was a small adjoining ‘fresher room, complete with a sanisteamer, and she had already set up a mirror over the washbasin.

It wasn't home yet, but it was starting to come together.

The apartment-warming party had gone a long way to setting her up, too. She had stopped by the Omotao farm the other day, responding to a call from Vhetin. He had told her that he had a new bounty contract for the two of them, and she had reluctantly showed up hoping against hope that it wasn't going to be dangerous like Tor.

But she had been stunned when she had walked through the front door of Rame and Mia's house and had found Rame, Mia, Brianna, Jaing, and Vhetin waiting for her with gifts and happy shouts of, " _Surprise_!"

The party had gone on for hours, with drinks and food and laughs lasting well into the evening. All of her friends had chipped in to provide her with needed belongings.

Rame and Mia had provided her a set of dishes, complete with a month's worth of food, most of which had come from their own stores. Jay had looked through it and found all sorts of necessary food; meat, fruits, vegetables, as well as more than a few packages of spiced warra nuts, a Mandalorian favorite.

Brianna had given her a set of framed, painted pictures to liven up her living space. Most of the pictures were landscape paintings of local places, such as the plaza outside the _Oyu_ _’baat,_ the magnificent Kelita Falls just outside Keldabe, and a large panoramic image of the mountains. Who the artist was, Brianna wouldn't say.

And lastly, Vhetin had provided her with a state-of-the-art handheld datapad, complete with a map of Keldabe, an auto-updating catalog of all current bounties worthy of their attention, and a hacked Imperial database.

_"Um... thank you," she had said, "I think. What purpose does this serve? Besides help with my job."_

_"Switch it on," he had said quietly. "It'll explain everything."_

_She had done as he had requested, and the datapad had come to life with a hum. There was nothing out of the ordinary at first glance. She'd looked up at him and raised an eyebrow in question._

_He'd stared at her through the expressionless faceplate of his battle helmet and murmured, "See the icon that says 'Recent Events?'"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Click it."_

_She'd done so, and a video window had popped up, showing the logo of a HoloNet news network. A human newsreader with dark hair had begun speaking. "Our next story comes from the local town of Terimanna, where-"_

_"Terimanna?" Jay had asked, pausing the recording. "That's the town where I grew up."_

_He'd nodded slowly and motioned for her to continue. She pressed the play button and started the recording again._

_"A local girl has graduated with honors from the Imperial Academy. Apprentice law consultant Arian Kolta was given a top-grade diploma from the Imperial Academy Law Department, the youngest student ever to do so, with congratulations from esteemed lawyer Imma Fleren herself. Reporter Teeme is on-site now with Miss Kolta."_

_Jays eyes had widened slightly as the report cut to the image of a blue-skinned Twi'lek reporter standing next to an agonizingly familiar young woman, no older than nineteen, with dark eyes and wavy dark brown hair._

_"Now, Arian," the Twi'lek said, holding an amplicoder between them, "you've just received one of the greatest decorations the Law Division can award, as well as setting a record for the youngest graduate in the history of the Academy. How are you feeling right now about this monumental achievement?"_

_The young woman laughed, her face lighting up as she said, "I feel_ terrific _! I'm so... just, completely blown away that Lady Fleren showed up for my award ceremony. I'm... I'm speechless."_

_"Is there anyone in particular you'd like to thank for your success?"_

_"Of course I'd like to thank my mom and my dad and all my brothers and sisters," Arian said, grinning from ear to ear. "But two people stand out the most."_

_"And who are they?"_

_"Firstly, I'd like to thank my older sister, Jayshiea, for inspiring me to apply to the Academy in the first place and for helping me with all the endless homework I needed to get through my courses."_

_Arian looked right into the camera, looking as if she was staring right into Jay's eyes. She smiled and said, "I know you're out there somewhere, Jay-jay, and we did it! We broke the record! I couldn't have done it without you, sis."_

_The Twi'lek reporter laughed and said, "What about the second person?"_

_"The second person I'd like to thank is my fianc_ _ée, Tori," Arian said, holding up her hand with a grin. “Who just gave me this yesterday.”_

_Jay's eyes had widened. Her little sister was getting married? It seemed like only a day ago that Arian and Tori had been little more than star-crossed lovers, devoted to each other even though they didn't have the approval of their parents._

_Sure enough, a golden ring glittered on Arian's finger. Jay had smiled, tears in her eyes, as the Twi'lek female admired the ring for a moment before smiling and saying, "Well, you must be very proud. Reporting from Terimanna, this is Lolla Teeme."_

_The human newscaster came back and said, "Miss Kolta will appear at a local law conference next week as the pupil of Lady Imma Fleren. The time of the conference is-"_

_Jay couldn't listen any more. There were tears sparkling in her eyes as she had stopped the recording and looked up at Vhetin. He had stared back at her through his expressionless T-visor and quietly said, "There are updates about every one of your family since you were arrested and the pad automatically downloads any Holonet reports about them. I didn't know who you were especially close to, so I tracked down everyone."_

_Jay had been speechless, tears running freely down her cheeks as she rubbed her eyes. "I... I don't know what to say."_

_"There's more," Jaing had said, stepping up next to Vhetin with a smile. "I managed to establish a one-time secure comm channel to your sister's comlink. I thought you'd want to congratulate her on her graduation."_

_"What?" Jay had said. Her mind had spun; it was too much to bear. "M-my sister?"_

_"You can call her right now if you want," Vhetin had said quietly. "But it'll only be a one-time deal. The Empire would be able to tack down the transmission if you used it more."_

_"You can use the back room to take the call," Rame had said, gesturing to the door._

_She had nodded and stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. With trembling fingers, she had dialed in Arian's comm code. A quiet dialing tone sounded, and Jay had tensed as a muffled click indicated that someone had picked up on the other end._

_"W-what?" came Arian's voice. She'd sounded groggy, as if she'd just been woken up. "Who is this? Do you have any idea what time it is?"_

_Tori's voice had sounded in the background, murmuring, "Mmm. Who is it? It's almost the middle of the night."_

_Jay had licked her suddenly-dry lips and managed to choke out, "Hey, sis."_

_Arian's tired voice had now taken on a tone of confusion and she had whispered, "Jay-jay?"_

_Jay had smiled at her sister's nickname for her and said, "Yeah. It's me."_

_All trace of weariness vanished from her sister's voice. "_ What _?" she had cried, sounding delighted. "What... how_ are _you? I missed you so much! The Imperials... they said... we thought..."_

_Jay had let out a weak laugh, unable to hold back the quiet sobs of happiness that shook her voice. "Yeah, I know what they said. None of it is true, Arian. None of it."_

_"I know," her sister had said, sounding as if she was crying as well. "I didn't believe what they said for a second."_

_"So how are you? I saw that you graduated from the Academy. And you're going to be married!"_

_"Yeah," Arian had said. "Yeah, I've barely been able to sleep these past few weeks. And now that you're coming home..."_

_"Uh," Jay had hesitated. "Yeah, Arian... I'm not coming home."_

_"What?"_

_"I'm not coming home," she had repeated. "I... I can't. It would be too dangerous for all of us."_

_"Oh... well are you happy where you are?"_

_Jay had smiled and said, "I'm... yeah. I think I am. I've got a new job and I've got a really great partner watching out for me. It_ _’s changed a lot, but I’m getting used to it._

_“But what about you?” she’d said, purposely changing the subject. “You're getting_ married _!"_

_Arian had laughed, an attractive, gentle sound that had drawn attention wherever she went. "Tori and I can barely stop ourselves from scheduling the wedding for tomorrow," she'd said. "We can't stop thinking about it."_

_"I'll bet," Jay had said, smiling. She had sat in a nearby chair and said, "Tell me about everything. Everything that's happened since I left."_

_It was half an hour before she left the room, clutching the datapad to her chest as tears ran freely down her cheeks._

_Everyone had been waiting for her, watching her sympathetically. But she'd had eyes only for Vhetin, who had given her this amazing gift._

_She had cleared her throat and quietly said to him, "This is the best gift anyone has ever given me. I don't know how to repay you."_

_He'd bowed his head slightly and said, "You already have. On multiple occasions..._ ner vod _."_

_She had nodded and looked away with a smile as Rame elbowed the black-armored Mandalorian in the side with a grin. "Way to go, Cin. You made all of us look like cheapskates. How is a box of silverware going to compare with such a thoughtful gift like that?"_

_Jay had just stared at the pad in her hands, her mind whirling. She had been out of contact with her family since being falsely branded a traitor. Her training and her hunting missions had kept her busy, kept her mind away from thoughts of home, but in recent weeks the dull ache of homesickness had settled in. She hadn't realized how much she missed her family until just now._

_She had looked up at Vhetin again and nodded silently, unable to put into words her feelings of admiration and gratitude toward her partner. He said nothing either, just slowly bowed his helmet._

She sighed and smiled, her gaze lingering on the pad, lying on the counter. She still hadn't had a chance to look through all the updates on her family members, but had watched the interview with her younger sister at least five times over again.

She couldn't even begin to describe how indebted to her partner she was for this unexpected gift. She could spend the rest of her life trying to repay him and fail.

She suddenly heard a small knock near the door and turned to see someone leaning against the doorway, a friendly grin on his face. She found herself grinning despite herself and she rested her hands on her hips.

"Venku Skirata," she said with a smile. "I thought I told you that I didn't need any help moving in?"

He shrugged, folding his arms across his chest and leaning against the doorjam. "I’ve never been one for following orders. I'm a political activist; we're a rebellious bunch."

"How did you find me? I never told you where my apartment was."

"Come on," he said with mock-disappointment. "I live in the middle of bounty hunter central and my family is three-quarters bounty hunter. I've picked up a few tricks."

When she just stared at him, he sighed and said, "Fine. I'm actually here to see if you need any help. How're you healing up?"

She raised her tank top slightly, showing Venku the bandages that were wrapped around her middle. "I had to have twenty stitches and Rame isn't gentle with sewing needles,” she said. “But I'm getting better every day, thanks for asking."

She shook her head, lowering her shirt and saying, "And as long as you're here, you might as well help a wounded bounty huntress unpack her stuff."

"Sure thing," he said, jumping into action. He bent and scooped up one of the biggest crates, hefting it onto his shoulder.

"Whoa," Jay said, holding her hands up. "Slow down, muscles. We're never going to get unpacked if _you_ hurt yourself too."

He laughed and stepped into the apartment, saying, "Step back and see how a strong, healthy _Mando'ad_ gets the unpacking done."

She stepped back and said, "Whatever. Just don't drop that. It's the only set of dishes I have."

"As you wish," he said with a wink as he walked toward the kitchen. He had no way of knowing that she was still smiling at him as he passed her.

~~~~~~~~

Vhetin and Brianna were walking together through the crowded streets. Bri was holding onto his hand tightly, a smile on her face as she looked around at all the goods the local sellers had to offer.

It was the first day of the weekend and the Market Day was in full swing, with stands set up along virtually every street in the city. The sun was shining brightly and it was a warm day, a nice change from the past months of darkness and cold. Piles of snow were melting along the sides of the street, and some Mandos selling their personal brands of _tihaar_ were having a hard time keeping the ice in their coolers from melting.

“Ooh!” Bri suddenly said, pulling him toward a green-colored stand. There were all manner of knives, swords, and other melee weapons arranged around the table and she fawned over them like a Serenno Duchess over expensive jewelry. She looked over all the weapons, carefully picking up a _beskar_ shortsword with intricate _Mando_ _’a_ runes carved into the blade. The sword came with a matching sheath with the same runes burned into the leather.

“What do you think, Cin?” she asked, turning to Vhetin with a grin. She placed the knife near her hip, where it would hang from her belt if she owned the weapon. “Does this knife make me look dangerous and sexy, or just overconfident of my fighting abilities?”

Vhetin chuckled and stepped forward. “Since when have you ever bought weapons based on the fashion statement they make?”

“I guess you’re right,” she said. She turned to the black-haired Mando running the stand and said, “I’ll take it.”

“Twenty creds,” the man grunted, and Bri fished in one of her belt pouches for the money.

“Wait a second,” Vhetin said, putting a hand on her shoulder. When she looked up at him, he pulled the money from his own pouch and said, “I’ve got this one.”

She stared at him, a half-smile on her face as he paid the Mando and handed her the sword. After a moment, they set off down the street again, Bri buckling the sheath onto her belt.

“What was that all about?” she asked. “You feeling all rich and famous after collecting that Tor bounty?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “I’m just happy to be able to buy my girlfriend the knives she drools over.”

She laughed as they stepped into the plaza outside the _Oyu_ _’baat_ tapcaf. They made for the front doors of the tapcaf and were almost there when Vhetin hesitated and said, “Hey Bri. Follow me a minute, will you?”

She frowned a little in confusion, but followed him as he led them to a dark side-alley some distance from the plaza.

“What is it?” she asked once he stopped and faced her.

He tensed for a moment, his heart pounding, then said, “I just wanted to say... I just wanted to tell you that I love you, Bri.”

She blinked: once, twice, then three times. Vhetin grimaced behind his helmet, expecting a rebuke, but her face broke into a wide smile. She laughed and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly.

“I knew something was wrong with you, Stripes,” she whispered. “I’ve never heard you sound so sincere when you’ve said that. What’s with the big change?”

“I... I just had my eyes opened on this last contract,” he said quietly, hugging her back. She pulled back a little and cocked her head in curiosity as he said, “I realized that bounty hunting is a dangerous profession, and I’m not going to be around forever. So I might as well treat the beautiful things in my life with the love and respect they deserve, while I still have the chance.”

She grinned widely and reached up, placing her hands on either side of his helmet. With a gentle tug, she pulled it off, letting it hang loosely from her grip. She put her other hand behind his head and pulled his face down to hers for a gentle kiss.

For once, Vhetin didn’t pull away, only closed his eyes and genuinely kissed her back. After a moment they wrapped their arms around each other and rocked back and forth slowly, their kiss growing more passionate. Bri put her hands on his chestplate as he wrapped his around her waist and he lost himself in the kiss.

“Ahem,” came a voice from the head of the alley.

They broke apart slowly, the precious moment shattered. Bri’s shoulders slumped and she sighed as she stepped back, handing Vhetin his helmet again. He quickly pulled it over his head, his flight suit sealing with a quiet _hiss_ , and once again transformed into the faceless bounty hunter Vhetin. In a moment, he was no longer Cin, Brianna’s lover, and she looked very disappointed at that.

With another sigh, she turned to the interloper, a Mandalorian, with a glare and put her hands on her hips.

“Yes?” she asked.

The man stepped closer, and Vhetin saw a familiar red-purple-black pattern on the man’s armor. He folded his arms across his chest and nodded his head respectfully.

“Corey,” he said.

“Vhetin,” the other man acknowledged as he stepped forward.

“Bri,” Vhetin said, gesturing to the man, “this is Corey Black, the man who brought the Tor contract to my attention. Corey, this is my girlfriend, Brianna Bellan.”

Corey offered Bri a hand. She slowly took it, narrowing her eyes as she said, “I’ve heard your name before. Underworld channels say that you‘re an extremely talented hunter. What is it you want?”

“I just wanted to congratulate Vhetin on a job well done,” Corey replied. “And to offer you a drink at the _Oyu_ _’baat_. But you were... otherwise occupied.”

“Yeah,” Bri said, glancing at Vhetin. After a moment she sighed again and said, “Well, since you interrupted us that almost forces you to buy us that drink.”

“Yeah,” Corey said, nodding. “Sure.”

Together, they followed the Mandalorian back out into the square and toward the tapcaf. As they walked, Vhetin quickened his pace and fell into step next to Corey. He nudged him in the arm and said, “Hey. I have something for you.”

Corey turned his helmeted head slightly and opened a palm. Vhetin reached into one of his belt pouches and dropped the armor tabs from the fallen Mandos into the hunter’s hand.

“I laid them to rest, just like you asked,” he said quietly. “They’re at peace.”

Corey nodded, closing his fist around the red-glowing armor tabs. “Good. I haven’t slept a wink these past few nights. Not knowing...”

“Will you return the tabs to their families for me?” Vhetin asked. “They deserve to know.”

“I’ve already informed them,” Corey said. “But yeah. I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Vhetin said, then fell into silence again.

Together, the three walked through the front doors of the _Oyu_ _’baat_. Aramis, the bartender, looked up from his duties wiping down the bar and grunted, “Wipe your _cetare_. I’ve run the mop through here twice already and I’m in no mood to do it again.”

They did as they were told, then made their way to a booth near the large holomonitor near the northwestern corner. Corey took his own side of the table, removing his helmet and setting it on the tabletop while Vhetin and Bri sat together.

“So,” Corey sighed as he sat. “How did the Tor mission go? I haven’t heard any news coming from Telos, so I’m assuming that’s good news.”

Aramis stepped up to the table and Corey and Bri both ordered drinks. Vhetin, who refused to remove his helmet in public, respectfully declined and said, “It was... interesting to say the least.”

“Any competition?” Corey inquired as Aramis stepped away to make their drinks.

“The worst.”

Corey’s eyebrows shot up. “You mean Fett?”

Vhetin nodded slowly. “Dogged us every step of the way. We managed to ditch him in the end, though.”

Corey chuckled and sat back in the seat, resting his hands behind his head. “Guess he’s not as good as everyone says.”

“I wouldn’t disrespect him,” Brianna said, resting her forearms on the tabletop. “The only reason Cin and Jay got away was because they outnumbered him two-to-one.”

“And even then he almost killed us,” Vhetin said. “I was going to make you pay me for damages and medical bills, Corey, but you’re lucky in that the bounty more than provided.”

Corey grinned as Aramis brought them their drinks. “I’m lucky that way. But tell me about Telos. I’m genuinely interested in hearing what I would have been up against if I’d accepted the contract.”

Over the next few minutes, Vhetin proceeded to recount the entire Telos contract. It was another fifteen minutes - and another round of drinks - before Vhetin had finished his tale.

“-and they carted Tor away to some maximum-security prison Xizor has hidden on Naboo,” he finished. “He’s going to stay there for a while before he’s executed.”

Corey let out a low whistle before taking a deep swig from his mug of _ne_ _’tra gal._ “Wow,” he said. “That contract sounds like it was a handful.”

“Class Ten bounties usually are,” Vhetin replied.

Corey was about to say more when he was interrupted by a delightful cry of, “Cin Vhetin! Cin Vhetin!”

Vhetin frowned and sat up, looking in the direction of the voice. He spotted a flash of blue before someone threw their arms around him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“Taala?” Vhetin said as the Twi’lek pulled away with a striking smile on her beautiful face. The Twi’lek looked very different, having abandoned her revealing black dress for an almost equally revealing nerf-hide jacket and a pair of work pants that were tight enough to draw attention from Mandos all over the bar.

“Yes!” she cried. “I follow instructions, just like you tell me and Master Jaing gives me job!”

The old clone stepped up to the table, dressed in his silver-blue armor and grinning as well. “She’s definitely worth every credit.”

Corey stared at him and echoed, “’Master’ Jaing?”

Skirata shrugged and said, “What can I say? One of the perks of being an employer is that you can have your underlings call you whatever you want. I could have my employees call me ‘Lord and Master of the Entire _Shabla_ Universe’ and they’d do it.”

Corey just stared at him and he backed down. “Fine. In truth, she’s trying to say ‘Mister Jaing’ and she keeps mispronouncing it.”

“That sounds better,” Brianna said, staring at Taala, who was in turn staring at Vhetin.

“Master Jaing is big impressed with slicing talent,” Taala said, clapping her hands. “I now in charge of entire group of slicers.”

“An entire group?” Vhetin asked, looking to Jaing. “What exactly do you have going on?”

“Ah, some cyber-criminal scamming off some high-level banks,” the clone replied. “I had to assemble a slicer team to track him down; the guy’s hard to pin down, even for me.”

“I so grateful for recommendation,” Taala said to Vhetin. “I never be able to repay you.”

“You deserved it,” Jaing said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “But come on; our bounty isn’t going to catch himself.”

Taala nodded, then turned back to Vhetin and asked, “I see you around?”

He nodded. “Now that you’re in Keldabe, yeah. Probably.”

A look of delight crossed her face. She gave Vhetin one last hug, then stood and followed Jaing out the door, a definite spring in her step.

Bri was also watching the two as they left. When the door shut behind them, Brianna fixed Vhetin with an intense stare and said, “Care to explain who that was?”

“What?” Vhetin said. “Oh, Taala. It’s a long story.”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “I’ve got nothing but time, Stripes.”

Corey, meanwhile, was staring at the holomonitor in the corner. As Vhetin began to explain just how he knew Taala and how it wasn’t anything like Bri thought, he raised a hand and said, “Shh. Shut up a minute.”

“Excuse me?” Brianna said.

Corey stood and stepped toward the monitor. He gestured to Aramis and said, “Hey, _Aram_ _’ika_. Turn up the volume on the monitor, will you?”

Vhetin stood from the booth as well, watching as the monitor showed one of the local HoloNet newsreaders being handed a sheet of flimsi.

“This just in,” the newsreader said. “We’ve just been told that an illegal prison complex on Naboo, supposedly belonging to the criminal syndicate Black Sun, came under attack this morning. Local Black Sun security forces were able to contain most of the inmates and return them to their cells, but an extremely dangerous inmate, a Barabel known as Oppo Tor, is still at large.”

Vhetin frowned in alarm, looking to Brianna. She was frowning at the screen as well, her head cocked slightly to one side.

“Interestingly,” the newsreader continued, “security footage shows that an unknown assailant - utilizing armor possibly Mandalorian in origin - broke _into_ the prison, freed Tor, and escaped unharmed.”

The picture switched to the blurry still of a man in dull green-red armor, dragging a stun-cuffed Tor behind him as he opened up at approaching security forces with a blaster carbine.

“The identity of the armored being is still unknown, and local authorities are looking into the matter. Until they reach a definite conclusion, the fugitive known as Oppo Tor is reported as missing and at large. He is to be considered armed and extremely dangerous at all times. If viewers have any information about the current whereabouts of this dangerous being, please contact this comm number immediately.”

The three hunters turned to each other as the screen displayed the comm number, then slowly returned to their table.

“Wow,” Corey said as he slowly eased into his seat. “I guess Fett got his man after all. Now _that_ is one determined _shabuir_.”

“Yeah,” Vhetin said, narrowing his eyes and staring distractedly at the tabletop. “Yes he is.”

~~~~~~~~

_To be continued in Star Wars: White Snow: Consecration..._


	17. Next Time

Next Time…

* * *

 

When a well-known Mandalorian bounty huntress goes missing, Cin Vhetin and Jay sign up as part of a search team mounted to find her. In high spirits because their recent hunting successes, they approach the job with their usual skill and vigor, but even they are unprepared for what they are about to find.

There are dark, deadly enemies waiting in the shadows, watching the hunters’ every move. Enemies who harness the dark side of the Force and will allow no one - least of all bounty hunters - to stand in the way of their plans.

Joined by the missing huntress’ allies - a Wookiee warrior with a lift debt to pay and a Mandalorian mechanic with a taste for the good things in life - they set out into the galaxy, determined to fulfill their contract.

Working together, they will come back with Kestra Hett, or they won’t come back at all.

* * *

 

_Featuring guest appearances from Shuk_ _’orok, Get’al Gra’tua, and Kestra Hett, courtesy of MandoGirl22._


End file.
